Through the Darkness

And having Vanai fuss over him wasn’t like having his mother fuss. He had trouble defining how and why it wasn’t, but the difference remained. After another sip of wine, he decided that Vanai, even though she fussed, didn’t treat him as if he were two years old while she was doing it. As far as his mother was concerned, he would never be anything but a child.

He took one more sip of wine, then nodded to Vanai. “Thank you,” he told her. “This is good. It’s what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and laughed, though not as if she were merry and carefree. “I sound silly, don’t I? But I hardly know what to do when somebody tells me that. My grandfather didn’t, or not very often, and the things I had to do for him. . . .” She laughed again, even more grimly than before.

“Maybe Brivibas had trouble figuring out you weren’t a baby anymore,”

Ealstan said; if that was true for his parents--especially his mother--why not for Vanai’s grandfather, too?

But she shook her head. “No. He had an easier time with me when I was small. He could count on me to do as I was told then. Later on ...” Now her eyes twinkled. “Later on, he never could be sure I wouldn’t do something outrageous and disgraceful--say, falling in love with a Forthwegian.”

“Well, if you had to pick something outrageous and disgraceful, I’m glad you picked that,” Ealstan said.

“So am I,” Vanai answered. “A lot of my other choices were worse.” She looked bleak again, but, with what seemed a distinct effort of will, put aside the expression. Her voice thoughtful, she went on, “You know, I didn’t fall in love with you, not really, till we’d been in this flat for a while.”

“No?” Ealstan said in no small surprise. He’d fallen head over heels in love with her from the moment she’d given him her body. That was how he thought of it, anyway.

She shook her head again. “No. I always liked you, from the first time we met hunting mushrooms. I wouldn’t have done what I did there in the woods last fall if I hadn’t. But you were ... a way out for me, when I didn’t think I could have one. I needed a while to see, to be sure, how much more you were.”

For a moment, his feelings were hurt. Then he realized she’d paid him no small compliment. “I won’t let you down,” he said.

Vanai leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. “I know you won’t,” she answered. “Don’t you see? That’s one of the reasons I love you. No one else has ever been like that for me. I suppose my mother and father would have been, but I can hardly even remember them.”

Ealstan had always known he could count on his family. He’d taken that as much for granted as the shape of his hand. He said, “I’m sorry. That must have been hard. It must have been even harder because you’re a Kaunian in a mostly Forthwegian kingdom.”

“You might say so. Aye, you just might say so.” Vanai’s voice went harsh and ragged. “And do you know what the worst part of that is?” Ealstan shook his head. He wasn’t sure she noticed; she was staring at nothing in particular as she went on, “The worst part of it is, we didn’t know when we were well off. In Forthweg, we Kaunians were well off. Would you have believed that? I wouldn’t have believed it, but it was true. All we needed was the Algarvians to prove it, and they did.”

Ealstan put his arm around her. He thought of those two chubby constables in kilts and hoped the powers above would keep them away. Even if he hadn’t been feeling so feeble, he feared that encircling arm wouldn’t be so much protection as Vanai was liable to need.

But it was what he could give. It was what she had. She seemed to sense as much, for she moved closer to him. “We’ll get through it,” he said. “Somehow or other, we’ll get through it.”

“They can’t win,” Vanai said. “I can’t stay hidden forever, and there’s nowhere I can go, either, not if they win.”

But the Algarvians could win, as Ealstan knew all too well. “Maybe not in Forthweg,” he admitted, “but Forthweg isn’t the only kingdom in the world, either.” Vanai looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. Maybe I have, he thought. But then again, maybe I haven’t.

Hajjaj stared down at the papers his secretary handed him. “Well, well,” he said. “This is a pretty pickle, isn’t it?”

“Aye, your Excellency,” Qutuz answered. “How do you propose to handle it?”

“Carefully,” the Zuwayzi foreign minister said, which won a smile from Qutuz. Hajjaj went on, “And by that I mean, not least, not letting the Algarvians know I’m doing anything at all. They’re our allies, after all.”

“How long do you suppose you can keep this business secret?” Qutuz asked.