Passion Play (5 page)

“I would not have you any different. But a season together! That means we shall have dances and theater outings …”

“… and visits and shopping. If you consider mucking about those dusty booksellers to be shopping. Now do not glare at me. We shall spend alternate days shopping for books and paints. Visit me tomorrow and we shall start the plans for our triumphs. Speaking of triumphs, who are those men with your brother?”

“Baron Mann and Baron Eckard.”

“Ah. Interesting. Very interesting. And who— Goodness, it’s Maester Galt.” Though no one stood close enough to overhear, Klara bent close to whisper in Therez’s ear. “Did you hear the rumors?”

“No, what happened?”

In a breathless tone, Klara told her. “His marriage contract. Broken off yesterday. The father insisted, even though he shall have to pay oh so many penalties. And you can be sure that Maester Galt will not offer Maester Bartos any advantages in shipping contracts for the city. So it’s odd, very odd. No one knows why he did it. Maester Bartos, I mean. And no one has seen Marina Bartos these past three days.”

Therez shivered at all the implications. That explained Galt’s dissatisfaction, the unnerving tension in his voice and manner. It also explained why Maester Bartos had sent his regrets that morning. She wanted to ask Klara where she’d heard the rumor, but her friend had drawn back.

“Beware,” Klara murmured. “They are coming toward us—all of them—even Maester Galt.”

“Telling secrets?” Mann said as he approached.

“My lord teases,” Klara said. “We are both too young for secrets.”

“Then I shall have to help you both collect more,” Mann said with a laughing glance at Therez.

Ehren smiled. Eckard shook his head. Galt was studying Mann with an odd, restrained expression on his face, and Therez wondered what their conversation had been. She wondered even more when the steward announced dinner, and Mann immediately held out his arm to her. She and Klara exchanged a glance.

“Casting about for a better partner?” the baron murmured.

Her cheeks warmed. “Of course not, my lord.”

Mann’s answer was a soft laugh. Shaking his head, he escorted Therez to her seat. Her father had decided to rearrange the seating himself, and to her regret, Klara was placed too far away for easy conversation. Instead, she had both barons across from her, as well as Theodr Galt.

Her father took a seat next to her.

Therez suppressed a shiver. Marina Bartos and her mother were to have sat in these two seats.
Breathe,
she thought.
And listen.

Happily, the servers were filling wine cups and handing out the first course, a dish of aromatic rice balls, flavored with rare spices from Pommersien, in the south of Veraene. The music had started again, but softer, with just the water flute and a descant flute in minor harmonies.

“We were discussing art,” Mann said to her father. “Most interesting. Maester Galt here prefers sculptures and painting. What are your preferences, Maester Zhalina?”

Therez’s father shrugged. “My time is taken up entirely by my business, alas. I make a poor judge in these matters.”

“What about you, Mistress Therez?”

Therez shook her head.

“A quiet, secretive girl,” Mann said. “You must tell me later when we dance. Maester Galt, I meant to ask, before we were called to dinner, why such a decided opinion against theater and song?”

Galt flaked his rice, as though picking through various responses. “Perfection,” he said, half to himself. “Once your artist carves his flawless statue, nothing can spoil his work. Unlike with theater or song, his patrons do not depend upon such vagaries as the actors’ moods, or the lighting, or whether the audience itself might disturb their enjoyment.”

Mann’s lips parted in a strange smile. “So, you are a collector.”

Galt sent him a keen glance. “Call it what you like, my lord. Those are my tastes.”

“Tastes are born of our nature,” Mann replied. “Myself, I prefer variety and spontaneity. Whereas you like your treasures immutable. Predictable. Controlled.”

His voice was pleasant, but Therez detected a tension in the air, and she held her breath. Why was he baiting Galt? Had he heard the rumors about him? Did he know something more? In the background, Paschke’s water flute played its rippling silvery melody. Galt studied Mann a long moment; however, he said nothing more than “As my lord wishes.”

Mann smiled again, a more predatory one than before, then applied himself to his plate.

“Was my son helpful to you, my lord?” Petr Zhalina said to Baron Eckard.

“Very helpful. He’s convinced me that little has changed in Duenne in the past three years.”

His tone piqued Therez’s curiosity. “How long did you live in Duenne, my lord?”

Her father shot her a swift look, but Eckard smiled pleasantly. “Thirty years, Mistress Therez. Thirty long and interesting years.”

“A city of a thousand opportunities,” Mann said musingly. “Some worthy. Others …”

“Others we shall not mention,” Eckard said with a pointed glance that Therez found intriguing.

“Is that why you left, my lord?” said Galt. “Because you disliked the opportunities there?”

Eckard shook his head. “Opportunities change, Maester Galt. I served Baerne of Angersee until his death. Like any new master, Baerne’s grandson wished for new advisers, and so you find me here.”

“But what of the old king?” said Lev Bartov, who had remained silent until now. “I heard that he had become most peculiar in his latter days. In fact, I heard—”

He stopped at Eckard’s level glance. “Baerne ruled well and long,” Eckard said quietly. “More than that I would not hazard saying. Nor should you.”

A brief silence followed, after which Petr Zhalina asked Baron Eckard for his opinion on trade matters with Károví. Eckard answered politely, and the conversation turned to more ordinary topics.

Therez picked at her food, half listening to the baron’s views on various treaties, but she hardly tasted the roasted venison with its honey glaze. Her thoughts remained on Eckard and Duenne. A city of opportunity—exactly what she hoped for, though she knew her ideas to be very different from those of an ex-councillor in the King’s Court. Perhaps she could ask him later about the city?

The servants cleared away the last course; the guests proceeded into the larger salle for dancing. Baron Mann claimed Isolde Zhalina’s hand for the first dance, while Petr and Ehren Zhalina took Lavena Friedeck and Mina Hess as their partners.

Quite unexpectedly, Therez found herself facing Baron Eckard. “My dear,” he said. “Will you honor me?”

Whispers rose and fell around them. Aware of the audience, Therez could do no more than murmur a yes. Eckard led her onto the floor as the music sighed into life. Palm against palm, he stepped to the left, and she to the right. Then he lightly clasped her hand and spun her into the first movement of the dance.

He danced well, was her first surprised thought, as he guided her through the intricate turns and sweeps. He was older than she had guessed, with deep lines etched into his weathered face. Thirty years at Duenne’s famous court. She tried to imagine him as a youth, dancing at the king’s balls. She could hardly picture such a scene or such a place.

“You are thinking hard,” he observed.

Therez recalled herself with a blush. “My apologies, my lord. I was thinking about Duenne. And the King’s Court. And, well, what the city is like.”

“Ah, that is right. Your brother mentioned your plans to visit a while. Next summer, no? Have you alerted all the booksellers?”

Therez dropped her gaze. “My lord teases.”

“Not at all. It’s rare to find a young woman who reads seriously. Or perhaps I’m being unfair to young women in general. Tell me … what kind of books do you prefer?”

“History. Legends. Poetry.”

“Then you must certainly know about Tanja Duhr.”

Ehren must have mentioned her love of poetry. But it was true, Tanja Duhr was her favorite poet, and she welcomed the new topic. With Baron Eckard taking the lead, they talked about the woman’s poems and how language had changed in the four hundred years since she wrote them. Then, because Duhr had witnessed the empire’s final years, they talked about the old emperor and his many heirs, all executed for treason, except the youngest daughter. About Leos Dzavek coming to court as a young prince. About his theft of Lir’s jewels, the downfall of the empire, and the founding of Károví. About magic and war and times of great change. There were no constraints, no examining every word before she spoke. It was like breathing for the very first time.

All around, the dancers flowed between the beribboned columns, and Paschke’s music spun through the air.

“Duhr wrote what she witnessed,” Eckard said. “Both the larger events and those small intimate stories of lovers and grief and trust and betrayal. And we, who come after, are made richer for her works. But then, I believe we all carry a book within our hearts. Our dispositions. Our ambitions. Our secrets. It takes great trust to let another person read that book.”

“Have you found such a person?” Therez said.

His mouth curved into a pensive smile. “Yes, I did. We loved. We married. We had children, and then she died. What about you, Mistress Therez? Have you a favorite book?”

He had phrased the question so she could answer either meaning. Even so, she found herself tongue-tied a moment. “I don’t know yet, my lord. I enjoy so many different books, but to choose one … I don’t know,” she repeated.

The dance was drawing to a close. Baron Eckard spun Therez around but before he released her hand, he bent close. “When you do choose a favorite book, if ever you do, remember to choose for friendship above anything else.”

He was gone before she could reply. Therez turned and came face-to-face with Baron Mann.

“Mistress Therez. Will you honor me with the next dance?”

She hesitated, but a glance to one side showed Theodr Galt approaching. “Gladly, my lord.”

Mann’s mouth tilted into a smile. “A quick-thinking girl. No wonder Maester Galt treasures your company.”

So he had seen Galt, too. Therez lowered her gaze, keeping her eyes and mouth under control. Mann liked to flirt. And he liked to provoke other men.

Baron Mann kept up a stream of light compliments throughout the dance. Therez would have found his conversation diverting, except for the look she had noticed on Galt’s face when they passed in the dance. Mann had seen it, too, for he made an offhand comment about avid collectors. She wished she could tell Mann’s character better, but he was like a book with latches and locks, its ornate cover deceiving. Whomever he did allow to read his pages would find the contents interesting, she suspected.

As she expected, Galt claimed Therez for the third dance. “Mistress,” he said.

“I am honored,” Therez said with a curtsy.

His hand was warm, his skin as smooth as her father’s. He spent his time in counting houses, she thought, or at elegant affairs such as this one.

The dance’s first notes floated through the air—a slow-moving traditional dance, where the partners circled each other in wheel patterns. As more couples joined the dance, the smaller patterns joined in a single, larger one. The steps required all her concentration, which gave her an excuse for keeping silent. It was just as well. Galt’s dancing was polished and assured, but more constrained than Baron Mann’s, and his expression less inviting than Baron Eckard’s.

“Your father tells me you were your mother’s chief assistant in planning this evening,” he said unexpectedly.

Therez nodded cautiously.

“Do you often do so?”

She nodded again and felt his fingers press against her shoulder. She glanced up, startled, and caught a brief tight smile on his face. It was not a happy smile.

“You talked more with Baron Eckard,” he observed.

So that was the difficulty. “We talked of Duenne. I hope to visit next summer.”

“I’m surprised your father would allow you to travel so far alone.”

I don’t know if he will,
she thought, but she had no wish to talk about her father.

“You like books, I heard,” Galt said after a moment. “Do you have a preference in authors, or are you simply an enthusiast?”

“I … I find it hard to say which.”

“Because you are young? Or because you do not trust your opinion?”

Because I do not trust you,
she thought. Galt seemed to catch something from her expression, because he did not repeat the question. With a firm hand, he spun her through the couples in a breathless rush. When they reached the farther side, he brought her to an abrupt halt and held her close. For a heartbeat, it was as though they were alone in the hall. His scent made her think of winter fires. Against her will, she felt the first stirrings of attraction.

“You see,” he said softly, “I can dance as well as any baron.”

And then they rejoined the dance as though nothing had happened, only Therez found it difficult to follow his lead or answer his questions. Her pulse beat too hard and too fast. So did his, but whether in attraction or anger, she could not tell. That she could not tell bothered her nearly as much as Galt himself. What
had
happened between him and Marina Bartos? No, she didn’t want to know. She only wanted the dance to end so she might get away from him and his jealousies and his strange intent gaze.