Sunrise Lands

They turned and went down the spiral stairs to the parade ground. The risers ran widdershins-Kerr-handed, they'd said in the old days, after a clan that were mostly lefties-to pin an attacker's shield arm to the inside. The others were waiting for them at the bottom; Father Igna tius had simply put on a clean robe, and Ingolf was in his usual good plain eastern-style roll-necked sweater and long coat. The two from Portland, however…

"Sure, and it's blinding them you'll be," Rudi said dryly.

Odard and Mathilda had both brought suits of the lat est Court fashion, suitable for a banquet at Castle Todenangst or the High Palace in Portland. Tight hose, tooled shoes with upcurled toes sporting little silver bells, tu nics with long dagged sleeves dropping down from the elbows, jeweled belts and dagger hilts. Odard's outfit was even particolored, wine red on the left and dark in digo blue on the right, not counting the golden fleurettes along the hems and seams; a spray of peacock feathers flared backward from the livery badge at the front of his roll edged hat with the dangling tail. Matti was a little more somber in brown velvet, but the heraldic shield on her chest had the lidless eye picked out in genuine rubies and jet.. ..

Rudi flung up a hand. "Aieee!"

Odard snorted and examined with satisfaction the little golden chains that held the snowy linen of his fretted cuffs.

"You're just damned jealous, because you're stuck with that skirt and blanket," he said. "I return your envy with the lofty, pitying compassion suited to a Christian gentleman of good birth and coat armor."

Rudi gri

"Peasant," Odard said genially.

They walked towards the house where the ruler of Boise lived. It was an unremarkable building, substan tial but not grand-redbrick and white trim and shut ters, two stories tall with dormered windows on the roof, of a type that had been old before the Change and often copied since. There wasn't much sign of pomp about it, save for the Stars and Stripes over the door and the two sentries in polished armor on either side. They snapped to attention with a clank and stamp and rustle, rapping their spear butts on the flagstones of the veranda.

"Come in, please," a soft voice said from inside as the door opened. "I'm Cecile Thurston."

They blinked against the incandescent mantles of the gaslight in the hallway, amid a clean smell of wax and floor polish and faint appetizing cooking odors; a black-and-white cat stared at Rudi and the others with the usual cool insolence from halfway up a staircase. The woman greeting them was tallish and in her forties, in a dress with a full knee length skirt, her long hair light brown where it wasn't gray.

"But you can call me Cecile," she said, giving a sudden brilliant smile aimed at him and Edain. "I know what you did for Larry."

It took him a moment to realize that Thurston was Larry to this comfortable-looking woman. There wasn't any physical resemblance to Juniper Mackenzie-Cecile Thurston was three inches taller, for starters-but she reminded him of his mother a little.

They all shook hands and made introductions. Young Frederick Thurston was there, in a neat green uniform; and two girls of about seven and twelve, who turned out to be named Jaine and Shawonda. Both were staring at him-the older particularly, with her eyes virtually bulging.

Oh, and I hope that's not going to be awkward, Rudi thought. Sweet Foam-born One, none of your jokes, now!

He knew the effect he had on a lot of females, and liked it very much-when they were of age. Crushes by youngsters ranged from a boggart-level nuisance to a full-blown pain in the arse. Then Odard and Matti saved the moment by bowing-the elaborate leg-forward, hat off, bent-knee flourish an Associate used with a lady of high rank who was also their host.

Cecile Thurston smiled. "My, that's impressive!"

Mathilda chuckled. "Theoretically I should curtsy, but it always looks absurd when you're wearing hose yourself."

"You could all probably use a drink," Cecile said. "Come on into the living room and let me take your coats… well, cloaks…"

The living room had a good rug, sofas and tables and upholstered chairs-most of it looking like modern work but made to late pre-Change patterns, which gave it all an old fashioned look. The two young girls' stares turned considering as they took the whole party in; they reminded him forcefully of his younger half sisters Maude and Fiorbhi

"I bet you're a prince from foreign parts," young Jaine said to him after a moment of awkward silence. "You look the way a prince should."

Rudi gri

"Oh," she said. "Like a prince is an assistant king, I guess.. ." Then she brightened and looked at Mathilda. "Are you a princess?"

"Well… yes, actually," Mathilda said.

Rudi judged she was taken a little aback at princesses being rhetorically classed with unicorns and dragons and other exotic creatures of mythology. After all, prin cess was simply her job description, and not even one she'd asked for or wanted all that much.

Jaine frowned. "I thought princesses had to be beautiful? You're sort of pretty, I guess, but…"

Edain choked over a sip from his wineglass. Rudi managed to smooth his face into polite impassivity before he caught Mathilda's wilting glare. She knew he'd had to swallow a laugh.

"And don't princesses wear beautiful long dresses with jewels and stuff like that?"

Mathilda nodded solemnly. "Sometimes I do. But I'm traveling and they're too heavy and the skirts catch your legs and you can't move your arms very well in one. And all the buttons!"

Rudi smiled a little to himself, and saw Odard smoothing away an identical expression. Evidently he'd also heard Matti when she went into full it's like being in irons rant on the cotte-hardi.

"Oh," Jaine said, sounding a little disappointed. "I thought it would be fun to wear dresses like that. But," she added generously, "what you've got on now is cool too. Sort of like what people on playing cards wear."

She frowned. "Why've you got the Sign of Evil on your chest, though?"

"Ah…" Mathilda looked down. "It's hereditary. It's not the Sign of Evil. It just means that the Throne is supposed to be all-seeing to detect enemies and evildoers."

Jaine turned to Odard: "You're not a prince either, I guess? You're not as handsome as he is, but you're dressed like a prince."

"I'm a baron," he replied helpfully. "That's sort of like-"

"A wicked feudal oppressor!" Jaine said delightedly, clapping her hands together. "I've read about that in school. Do you have a castle and a dungeon?"

"A castle, a small town, six manors-four held for knight service by my vassals, two in demesne-ten villages and a hunting lodge," Odard said.

"And dungeons? With racks and rats and straw and guys in black hoods and stuff?" she said with gruesome relish.

"No. The High Court of Petition and Redress doesn't like that sort of thing these days. And I'm not all that wicked or oppressive… all my peasants would leave if I were, and then where would I be?"

"Broke, and earning your own living," Rudi said. "And that wouldn't suit you at all, at all, Odard."

And you can't hunt runaways with dogs anymore, he thought.

Odard's father had been an enthusiastic hunter of runaway peons, with a pack of sight hounds trained to kill, and a busy torture chamber. Though to be fair, that sort of thing had been over before Odard's voice broke; it had been part of the settlement at the end of the War of the Eye that anyone could move if they wanted to. It was amazing how the Portland Protective Association's standards of management changed once the implications of "voting with the feet" sank in.