Roial looked out the carriage window, toward a vehicle pulling up next to them. Inside was a short man dressed completely in red; Sarene recognized the young Aonic priest who had served as Hrathen's assistant.
Roial frowned. "I think we may have traded Hrathen for a foe of equal danger."
"Him?" Sarene asked with surprise. She'd seen the young man with Hrathen, of course—even remarked on his apparent fervor. However, he could hardly be as dangerous as the calculating gyorn, could he?
"I've been watching that one," the duke said. "His name is Dilaf—he's Arelish. which means he was probably raised Korathi. I've noticed that those who turn away from a faith are often more hateful toward it than any outsider could be."
"You might be right, Your Grace," Sarene admitted. "We'll have to change our plans. We can't deal with this one the same way we did Hrathen."
Roial smiled, a slight twinkle in his eyes. "That's the girl I remember. Come; it wouldn't do for me to be late to my own party."
Roial had decided to have the eclipse-observation party on the grounds behind his house—an action necessitated by the relative modesty of his home. For the third-richest man in Arelon, the duke was remarkably frugal.
"I've only been a duke for ten years. Sarene," Roial had explained when she first visited his home. "but I've been a businessman all my life. You don't make money by being wasteful. The house suits me—I fear I'd get lost in anything larger."
The grounds surrounding the home. however, were extensive—a luxury Roial admitted was a bit extravagant. The duke was a lover of gardens, and he spent more time outside wandering his grounds than he did in his house.
Fortunately, the weather had decided to comply with the duke's plans, providing a warm breeze from the south and a completely cloudless sky. Stars splattered the sky like specks of paint on a black canvas, and Sarene found her eyes tracing the constellations of the major Aons. Rao shone directly overhead, a large square with four circles at its sides and a dot in the center. Her own Aon, Ene, crouched barely visible on the horizon. The full moon rose ponderously toward its zenith. In just a few hours it would vanish completely—or, at least. that was what the astronomers claimed.
"So," Roial said, walking at her side, their arms linked, "are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
"What what's all about?"
"The ball," Roial said. "You can't claim that you had me organize it on a whim. You were much too specific about the date and location. What are you planning?"
Sarene smiled, rekindling the night's schemes. She had nearly forgotten about the party, but the more she considered it. the more excited she became. Before this night was over, she hoped to find the answer to a problem that had been bothering her almost since she'd arrived in Arelon.
"Let's just say I wanted to view the eclipse with company." she said with a sly smile.
"Ah, Sarene, ever dramatic. You've missed your calling in life, my dear—you should have been an actress."
"As a matter of fact. I considered it once," Sarene said reminiscently. "Of course, I was eleven years old at the time. A troop of players came through Teoin. After watching them, I informed my parents that I had decided not to grow up to be a princess, but an actress instead."
Roial laughed. "I would like to have seen old Eventeo's face when his prize daughter told him she wanted to become a traveling performer."
"You know my father?"
"Really, Sarene," Roial said with indignation, "I haven't been old and senile all my life. There was a time when I traveled, and every good merchant has a few contacts in Teod. I've had two audiences with your father, and both times he mocked my wardrobe."
Sarene chuckled. "He's merciless with visiting merchants."
Roial's grounds centered around a large courtyardlike patch of grass overlaid by a wooden dancing pavilion. Hedge-walled pathways led away from the pavilion, toward newly blooming flower beds, bridge-covered ponds, and sculpture displays. Torches lined the pavilion, providing full illumination. These would, of course, be doused prior to the eclipse. However, if things went as Sarene planned, she wouldn't be there to see it.
"The king!" Sarene exclaimed. "Is he here?"
"Of course," Roial said. pointing toward an enclosed sculpture garden to one side of the pavilion. Sarene could barely make out the form of Iadon inside, Eshen at his side.
Sarene relaxed. Iadon was the whole point of the night's activities. Of course, the king's pride wouldn't let him miss a ball thrown by one of his dukes. If he had attended Telrii's party, he would certainly make it to Roial's.
"What could the king have to do with little Sarene's schemes?" Roial mused to himself. "Maybe she sent someone to peruse his chambers while he's away. Her Seon, perhaps?"
However. at that moment Ashe floated into view a short distance away. Sarene shot Roial a sly look.
"All right, perhaps it wasn't the Seon," Roial said. "That would be too obvious anyway."
"My lady," Ashe said, bobbing in greeting as he approached.
"What did you find out?" Sarene asked.
"The cook did indeed lose a serving woman this afternoon, my lady. They claim she ran off to be with her brother, who was recently moved to one of the king's provincial mansions. The man, however, swears he hasn't seen anything of her."
Sarene frowned. Perhaps she had been too quick in judging the cook and her minions. "All right. Good work."
"What was that about?" Roial asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," Sarene said, this time completely honest.
Roial, however nodded knowingly.
The problem with being clever, Sarene thought with a sigh, is that everyone assumes you're always planning something.
"Ashe, I want you to keep an eye on the king," Sarene said, aware of Roial's curious smile. "He'll probably spend most of his time in his exclusive portion of the party. If he decides to move, tell me immediately."
"Yes, my lady," Ashe said, hovering away to take an unobtrusive place next to one of the torches, where the flame's light masked his own.
Roial nodded again. He was obviously having a delightful time trying to decipher Sarene's plans.
"So, do you feel like joining the king's private gathering?" Sarene asked, trying to divert the duke's attention.
Roial shook his head. "No. As much good as it would do me to watch Iadon squirm in your presence, I've never approved of the way he holds himself aloof. I'm the host, thanks to you, and a host should mingle. Besides, being around Iadon tonight will be intolerable—he's looking for someone to replace Baron Edan, and every minor noble at the party will make a play for the title."
"As you wish," Sarene said. allowing Roial to lead her toward the open-walled pavilion where a group of musicians was playing and some couples were dancing. though most stood talking at the perimeter.
Roial chuckled, and Sarene followed his gaze. Shuden and Torena spun near the center of the dance floor, completely captivated by one another.
"What are you laughing about?" Sarene asked, watching the fire-haired girl and the young Jindo.
"It is one of the great joys of my old age to see young men proven hypocrites." Roial said with an evil smile. "After all those years swearing that he would never let himself be caught—after endless balls spent complaining when women fawned over him—his heart, and his mind, have turned to mush as surely as any other man's."
"You're a mean old man, Your Grace."
"And that is the way it should be." Roial informed. "Mean young men are trivial, and kindly old men boring. Here, let me get us something to drink."
The duke wandered away, and Sarene was left watching the young couple dance. The look in Shuden's eyes was so sickeningly dreamy that she had to turn away. Perhaps Daora's words had been more accurate than Sarene had been willing to admit. Sarene was jealous, though not because she had assumed any romantic possibilities with Shuden. However, ever since her arrival in Arelon, Shuden had been one of her most fervent supporters. It was hard to watch him giving his attention to another woman, even for a completely different purpose.
There was another reason as well—a deeper, more honest reason. She was jealous of that look in Shuden's eyes. She was envious of his opportunity to court, to fall in love, and to be swept up in the stupefying joy of romance.
They were ideals Sarene had dreamed about since early adolescence. As she grew older, Sarene realized such things would never be hers. She had rebelled at first, cursing her offensive personality. She knew she intimidated the court's men, and so, for a short while, she had forced herself to adopt a more subservient, docile temperament. Her engagement, and near marriage, to a young count named Graeo had been the result.
She still remembered the man—more a boy-with pity. Only Graeo had been willing to take a chance on the new, even-tempered Sarene—risking the mockery of his peers. The union had not been one of love, bur she had liked Graeo despite his weak will. There had been a kind of childish hesitancy about him; an overdone compulsion to do what was right, to succeed in a world where most people understood things much better than he.
In the end, she had broken off the engagement—not because she knew living with the dull-minded Graeo would have driven her mad, but because she had realized that she was being unfair. She had taken advantage of Graeo's simple ingenuousness, knowing full well he was getting himself into something far over his head. It was better he bear the scorn of being refused at the last moment than live the rest of his life with a woman who would stifle him.
The decision had sealed her fate as an unmarried spinster. Rumors spread that she had led Graeo on simply to make a fool out of him, and the embarrassed young man had left the court, living the next three years holed up on his lands like a hermit. After that, no man had dared court the king's daughter.
She'd fled Teod at that point, immersing herself in her father's diplomatic corps. She served as an envoy in all the major cities of Opelon, from Fjorden itself to the Svordish capital of Seraven. The prospect of going to Arelon had intrigued her, of course, but her father had remained adamant about his prohibition. He barely allowed spies into the country, let alone his only daughter.
Still. Sarene thought with a sigh. she had made it eventually. It was worth it, she decided; her engagement to Raoden had been a good idea, no matter how horribly it had turned out. For a while, when they had been exchanging letters, she had allowed herself to hope again. The promise had eventually been crushed, but she still had the memory of that hope. It was more than she had ever expected to obtain.
"You look as if your best friend just died," Roial noted, returning to hand her a cup of blue Jaadorian wine.
"No, just my husband," Sarene said with a sigh.
"Ah," Roial said with an understanding nod. "Perhaps we should move somewhere else—a place where we won't have such a clear view of our young baron's rapture.
"A wonderful suggestion, Your Grace," Sarene said.
They moved along the pavilion's outer border. Roial nodding to those who complimented him on the fine party. Sarene strolled along at the elderly man's side, growing increasingly confused at the dark looks she occasionally got from noblewomen they passed. It was a few minutes before she realized the reason behind the hostility; she had completely forgotten Roial's status as the most marriageable man in Arelon. Many of the women had come this night expecting the duke to be unaccompanied. They had probably planned long and hard on how to corner the old man, intent on currying his favor. Sarene had ruined any chance of that.