Second Contact (Okal Rel Saga #1)

Chapter 12.2 - Two Princes and Two Fountain Court Lieges

Milling about on the lawn, Delm's people looked like a flock of preening birds to Di Mon. He had the feeling he could scatter them just by striding past.

It will be such a relief to be replaceable again, he thought, after Vretla's child is born.

"Look!" exclaimed Tan.

A prince in Silver Demish braid came through the gate and halted a polite distance from Di Mon. He had sandy hair and a square jaw so reminiscent of Prince H'Us that the embroidery on his jacket was redundant. Di Mon could not make out the details in the braid, but placed the style. He was a relative from Princess Reach, and to judge by his bearing and expression, unfamiliar with confronting Vrellish highborns.

"Looks like a kid," L'Ket remarked, posting herself at Di Mon's side with a hip cocked. If he wanted someone to exceed the bounds of duty and take on a superior, she was game for it. The edge to her interest might be sexually motivated, but she would happily kill anyone who told her she was lusting after a Demish genetic superior.

"Do you think he is any good with a sword?" Tan asked.

Hesseratt was studying the young Princessian with narrowed eyes. "I don't know," she said. "I've never seen him fight in Demish tournaments here at court."

"Hardly worth the exercise, then," Srain drawled.

"Hush," said Di Mon.

"Good cycle, Liege Monitum," the young stranger greeted him, speaking down the one rank he was entitled to as a Royalblood addressing a Highlord. "I am Taran, nephew of the Liege of HeavenBlessed on the planet Grain in Princess Reach, and husband of Caroleena, daughter of Her Grace Evleen of Blue Dem."

"A venerable lineage," Di Mon said, bowing to Demish opinion in such matters. "Are you acting here for your mother-in-law's liege or your grandsire's Ava?"

"Who are both, of course, the Ava!" Taran exclaimed with delight, and relaxed. "You are quick-witted for a black hair, Liege Monitum, but no less than your reputation."

Di Mon glanced past Taran's shoulder, already bored with the chatter. "What are you guarding?"

The yellow-haired prince looked embarrassed. "To be honest, Your Grace, the Ava's mistress." He sighed. "Even perfection, it seems, finds it hard to be perfect towards women."

Perfection was far from how Di Mon viewed Ava Delm, but he also knew enough about the H'Usians to write the title off as wishful thinking: form again, not substance. Delm was sacred because he was descended from the Golden Emperor, even though the Golden Emperor — according to D'Ander — rejected him.

"Is there some particular reason," Di Mon asked, "why Lady H'Reth has need of such gallantry?"

Taran winced at the sarcasm.

"There have been rumors," Taran said, flustered, eyes flicking towards the strange ambiguity of Vrellish women: hard muscled, dressed just like their men, and wearing swords. "Rumors of, uh, well ... unpleasantness. Concerning the lady's husband."

Di Mon frowned. Demish rumors could spread faster than a flying Vrellish highborn, without ever leaving Demish parlors.

"What unpleasantness regarding Liege H'Reth could require that his wife be guarded?" asked Di Mon.

Taran flushed, then, as if to compensate for so unmanly a reaction, clamped a hand around his sword hilt. "Most likely it is nothing, but all the same, if you don't mind, it is nothing I enjoy repeating."

"I see," said Di Mon. He paused, then continued. "I have cause to put some questions to H'Reth's wife with regard to an investigation."

Taran became very formal. "I hope, and trust, the matter is not pressing."

"What does that mean?" Tan whispered to Hesseratt.

"That he would just as soon not duel," came the answer.

A car pulled up, drawing everyone's attention with its grandiose appearance. It was longer than any state car Di Mon could remember seeing, worked in polished gold and trailing feather streamers. But it had seen better centuries — the gilt was off in patches and the feather arrangement looked hurried. The net effect was remarkably silly from Di Mon's perspective.

Of course it was D'Ander who sprang out of it, acting as his own chauffeur and doorman, but pulling it off splendidly.

"Taran, I think. Isn't it?" The Golden prince greeted the Silver one.

"I am honored that you recognize me!" Taran enthused, executing an odd bow. Di Mon supposed it was something reserved for celebrities; the Demish had more quirks and protocols among themselves than he could catalog.

"I always remember people who cheer the wrong champion," D'Ander assured his young fan. "Your uncle did, I trust, recover from the wound I gave him?"

"Oh yes!" Taran hesitated. "You were right, you know, about the contract under dispute. It wasn't fair to the widow, and that's why I was cheering for you! Not only because you fought a splendid duel!"

D'Ander clapped him on the shoulder and took his offered sword hand. "'Truth is l'liege of all,'" he quoted from some bit of Demish literature. "I hope that you did not come to any harm for backing me."

"Actually," Taran confessed, abashed, "my mother made a peasant of me for the haying season. I sunburned something awful."

D'Ander chuckled. "As well she should. I might have killed your uncle, for all that it was meant to stop at first blood. Anything can happen in a duel. And it cost your family a lucrative honor bond. Do you think you could escort us inside?" he asked, changing the subject while he still had the younger man's attention. "Lady H'Reth might be more comfortable with you at hand."

"Well, uh, actually," Taran demurred, "I'm here to keep people out. She's not disposed to social calls."

"Nonsense!" D'Ander told him. "What nobleborn lady would refuse to take tea with two princes and two Fountain Court lieges?"

Di Mon frowned at that bit of Demish arithmetic, which counted D'Ander twice. But it worked — D'Ander already had Taran headed towards the manor. "See if anyone out here or in the house will gossip," Di Mon instructed Hesseratt, "and keep an eye out for our state car."

He caught up to the Demish princes on the threshold. Servants showed them into an airy parlor.

"My Lady has been indisposed, Exalted Highness," a lady-in-waiting informed D'Ander, bowing so low Di Mon thought she might fall over.

"Let her know we're here, that's all," D'Ander told her kindly, and exchanged useless pleasantries concerning Lady H'Reth's health and the lady-in-waiting's good family before she left to do as she had been told.

A maid showed them into a parlor. The Demish princes chatted while Di Mon prowled around uneasily until the soft swish of skirts in the corridor alerted him to new arrivals. The lady-in-waiting came in first and curtsied, followed by a serving man pushing a trolley loaded with a steaming pot of herbal tea and tiny sandwiches.

"My Lady begs your patience," said the woman. "She needs a moment to prepare herself for such an honor. Please, do take refreshment." Her gaze caught on Di Mon as she finished.

Di Mon took a sandwich and ate it in two mouthfuls, but he turned down the tea. He would have taken alcohol but none was offered.