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Chapter NineFebruary 1, 1464
The Camberian Council chamber
Somewhere in Lendour"I believe congratulations are in order, Your Majesty," said Lord Geoffrey Arilan, beaming widely at his fellow Camberian Council coadjutor, Mikhail of Andelon. "Your Catalina was an exquisite bride. The people of Gwynedd were overjoyed yesterday to catch a glimpse of their new Princess and future Queen." The Gwyneddan shared a few memories of the momentous occasion with his fellow council member, the bride's father.
"I am glad to hear she and Nicholas made it to your kingdom safely," said Andelon's sovereign. "From what my barge masters reported upon their return, it was an eventful journey. What have you learned about their attackers?"
"They are a Jouvian mercenary corps under King Renier's employ," Lord Geoffrey told him, "or so King Arnaud of Fianna believed, at least, when he asked my son to Mind-Share an image of the badge they wore so he could see if he could identify it."
"They style themselves as the
Corps Phénix," added Lady Emmanuelle de la Flamme, "because they are partisans who hope for a resurrected Joux as it was in the time of King Gaspard of late, unlamented memory. They are very difficult to pin down, preferring quick attacks and ambushes of the sort your daughter and Prince Nicholas were subjected to, rather than honorable combat. This is what their emblem looks like," she added as she Mind-Shared the image with the rest of the assembled Council. "Shortly after hearing the account of the ambush, King Arnaud sent several of his trusted men to the area where it took place, and they were able to locate and capture a few of the Jouvian survivors, but unfortunately none of them survived long enough to be thoroughly questioned. They had death triggers installed to destroy their memories in case of capture and any attempt to interrogate or Mind-Read them."
"That's annoying," said Lord Alexei Petrovich, "although not entirely surprising, especially if Renier's end goal is to have enough of a trained partisan force to throw off Tralian oversight. He wouldn't want the Hort to have clear evidence of his plotting, after all."
"He's been careful to keep the
Corps skirmishes well clear of Tralian lands," Gräfin Violette of Thuria said, "although they have been suspected in a border skirmish or two between Joux and Thuria, and an even bigger problem for Logréine. Even Nur Hallaj has had a few incidents lately that might have been their work, though Renier has been more careful not to arouse their ire."
"I can't blame him. My lady wife is from Nur Hallaj, and I'm exceedingly careful not to arouse hers," joked Mikhail of Andelon. "Hell hath no fury like a provoked Hallaji."
"What is the latest news from the Nördmarcker front?" asked Aoife of Llyr. "As my brother the
Ard-Tiarna is about to send our younger sister Saoirse back to Gwynedd with our offer of aid for the war effort against King Torval, it would be helpful to know how to advise him, at least as much as I am able to without divulging my involvement with this Council or the fact that my information sources are not quite so outdated as his are due to the open ocean being unsafe to sail this time of the year."
"Cormac is still opposed to our oversight?" Lord Geoffrey asked.
"Let's just say that while the Royal House of Llyr also consider ourselves to be guardians of Deryni heritage and lore on behalf of the Eleven Kingdoms, sometimes our ways of dealing with things have not always aligned perfectly with how the Camberian Council has voted to handle those situations in the past. As a Council member from a long line of loyal Arilan courtiers in the service of the Haldane Kings, I'm sure you are well aware of the tensions inherent in trying to serve both your royal master and also a more independent body who has to consider the needs of other Kingdoms as well. You and I both believe it is possible to serve both our own Kingdom and the greater good of the Kingdoms as a whole; Cormac is more, shall we say, dubious. But he has never yet forbidden me to participate in this Council, so here you have me, for the moment at least." Aoife smiled.
"At least we know where
you are this afternoon, even if
Ard-Tiarna Cormac doesn't," said Lord Alexei, "which unfortunately is more than we can say about King Torval at the moment. My sources know where his levies are gathering and conducting war exercises, but Torval himself has not been seen in several days now, and that's concerning."
"Since when?" Lord Geoffrey asked sharply. "And why have I not been informed until now?"
"Until just a couple of days ago, you were on a ship in the middle of the Southern Sea, and rather difficult to reach," Alexei said, "but I am telling you now. He was last sighted in Netterhaven around the twenty-second or the twenty-third of last month, so just over a week ago. He appears to have simply dropped off the face of the earth, although his generals seem blissfully unconcerned over his disappearance, so they must know what he is up to even if we do not."
"I don't like the sound of that at all," Da'ud of the Anvil said, looking thoughtful.
"Nor do I," said Alexei, "especially as my Kingdom is on Nördmarcke's very doorstep, even if Torval's forces seem more focused on Gwynedd at the moment."
"He made an offer of marriage to Catalina just a few months back," King Mikhail recalled. "It's possible that he's found some other potential bride to court and has decided to do his own wooing this time rather than simply sending a delegation with gifts."
"That's certainly possible, though if that's the case, no one has yet brought such a courtship to my attention," said Alexei. "Though if anyone else here has heard of such rumors....?
None had, but all agreed that they would keep their eyes and ears open for any rumors or news they might hear about the missing King of Nördmarcke's whereabouts.
#
February 2, 1464
The Cathedral of St. George
The Sacristy
City of Rhemuth
Shortly before dawnSaoirse Catriona O'Shiele,
Banfhlaith of Llyr, appeared on the portal stone in the sacristy of the ancient Cathedral at the heart of Rhemuth. She stood there in silence for a long moment, extending her senses to ensure no one was close by. The presence of a young woman suddenly appearing out of nowhere in the middle of a cathedral sacristy in the wee pre-dawn hours was a complication she didn't really care to have to explain.
She started to step off the portal stone, only to run up against an invisible ward. This one wasn't set to kill, thank God, or even to injure. It was simply meant to prevent just anyone who wasn't already attuned to it from passing through. A sensible precaution, she supposed, in these final days leading up to war, for who knew what secrets the enemy might capture on the battlefield, especially when their King was also Deryni? However, it was mighty inconvenient just now.
Fortunately she knew someone who could do something about it. She only hoped he was somewhere nearby and not at his family home in Tre-Arilan, which was very near to Rhemuth, but not quite near enough to prevent her from being discovered here when the priests started arriving to attend to their morning office.
She sat on the stone floor, closing her eyes and entering into a meditative trance, trying to sense his presence. Assuming he wasn't at home, he would likely be at Rhemuth Castle with his brother squires, hopefully still sound asleep because that would make this attempt to contact him easier.
After several attempts, she finally located him.
Sebastian! Wake up, I'm a little stuck here and could use your help. Sending him a mental image of a completely dark sacristy would be of little use, although she was certain he knew where she was without any need for a visual aid, but she shared the portal signature through the link. He would know it well; he was the one who had taught it to her in the first place.
Saoirse? Bloody hell, woman, what are you doing here?
Attempting to come to the aid of old friends, you dolt! Are you going to come let me out or not? Someone has Trapped the portal since I last came through here.
Yes, I might have done that. She felt his silent chuckle through their link.
No worries, I'll be there soon. Are you still facing the same direction as when you arrived?
Yes. Though I'm sitting, so don't pop in directly on top of me. Give me a few seconds' warning so I can make room for you.
Being on top of you would sound a lot more fun if only you weren't too much like a sister. Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed and get to the nearest portal. There was a long pause of several minutes before his Mind-Voice returned.
Are you in place yet?Saoirse stood.
Which direction would you like me to step?
To your left, until you're right up against the barrier. Just so there's enough room for me to land.#
She had changed her form by the time Sebastian had arrived, so his handfire revealed the likeness of a young man equally familiar to him as her true form. He lightly punched his former foster sibling's arm in friendly greeting. "Hello, Cillian. Give me your hand."
The Llyrian prince–or technically still a princess, though it was too disconcerting to think of the person before him as a princess while Saoirse/Cillian was disguised in this form–complied, and Sebastian pressed the palm of it against the barrier while muttering a brief attunement spell. The barrier dissolved, allowing them both to step off the portal stone. The sacristy door was also locked, but that was less of an impediment for someone who could turn the tumblers in the lock with his mind.
Silently making their way out of the cathedral and through the cathedral close, they continued their conversation.
I have news for mo bráthair
Uthyr. When will he awaken?
At the Last Judgment? Sebastian stopped in his tracks, suddenly aware that news of the past several months would not yet have reached Llyr, since the winter storms usually made the open seas of the Atalantic impassable, or at least much more risky to sail without great hazard to ships and crews, between late November and March at the earliest.
Cill, King Uthyr died in mid-December.
What? Brown eyes stared at him in shock.
He was hearty and hale just this October past when I last spoke to him before returning home. What happened?Sebastian nudged his companion as a reminder to keep walking.
Some sort of apoplexy, compounded with hitting his head on the stone hearth when he fell. He never woke up. Cinhil is King now.Cillian frowned.
For how much longer, though?
Not very. Months? Maybe a year?
He's in no shape to lead your armies. Is Prince Nicholas leading them into battle?
Yes.
He'll need a legitimate heir, and very soon.
Already working on it. He married two days ago. Another quick glance from Cillian.
To Melisande?
No. The eldest Andelonian princess, Catalina.A speculative look.
That's fast work. I've not met her, but I know of her. My cousin Riordan serves as her tutor, or at least he once did, last time our paths crossed. She should do nicely, though you've just broken my tender heart. His old friend grinned.
How so?
I'd have at least offered your reprobate Prince a temporary handfasting to make an honest man out of him, because damn, Colin's attractive!Sebastian knew his foster sister was joking, but the thought of her in any sort of amorous relationship with his knight was still disconcerting.
Not in that form, surely, because I assure you Saoirse is more his type.
How soon is Cinhil likely to be awake, or should I bring my news directly to Colin? It's to do with Llyr's contribution to the war effort, so I know they'll want to know as early as possible.
It's hard to say; the King's sleep patterns are not all that regular these days. But after breakfast is generally a good time.
All right. I could do with a bit more sleep anyway. Can you find me a spare corner?
You can bunk with me in the squires' chamber until morning, if you stay in that form. I'll see if I can arrange for a private guest room in the morning.#
February 2, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The King's Bedchamber
Late morning"The
Ard-Tiarna of Llyr stands ready to provide Gwynedd with ships and men once the winter storms die down. We can commit twenty-five warships in the North to help patrol your coast and aid in getting supplies to your men in Marley, and ten more in the South to assist in bringing other supplies in through Coroth Bay, should the enemy move south rather than west after coming through the pass. In addition, we can spare 1,200 warriors. Not to mention my own services as a scout and intelligencer. You know my training, Your Majesty."
"Indeed." The King studied Lord Geoffrey Arilan's protegé and former fosterling thoughtfully. He glanced towards Colin, who still looked very sleep deprived as he absorbed the
Banfhlaith's information. "What do you think?"
"It's welcome news, certainly," Colin said, rubbing a chin still dark with the night's beard stubble. "How early in the Spring do you think your fleet can get here safely?"
"Isn't that always the question when it comes to the whims of the Atalantic?" Llyr's princess replied, still wearing her guise as Cillian of Llyr even though each man present was aware it was merely an illusion, for she had learned quite early on that the Haldanes had an easier time dealing with the concept of sending a man out to gather intel or fight battles than sending a woman, so it was easier just to lean into those biases rather than try to work against them. It was one of the known drawbacks of working closely with one of the Mainlander Kingdoms.
"The wind and waves should grow calmer by March, though whether that will be earlier in the month or later is anyone's guess just yet. But we do have some weather working magic that might allow us to make the crossing a week or two sooner. I know that will be cutting things rather close, but my forces can join yours wherever they happen to be once we arrive on your shores."
Colin nodded. "I want to replace the scouts who are currently in the field with fresh eyes, preferably sooner rather than later, so they can already be in place once Torval is on the move. I had planned to send Sebastian as well as a few others sometime in the next week or so. Could you be ready in time to join them?
"As soon as I stock up on more suitable clothing for cold weather, Your Highness. Wandering through your northern borderlands in thin Llyrian garb is hardly my idea of a good time. But I should have my gear assembled in a day or two, assuming the garments I left at Tre-Arilan still fit properly."
"Sebastian will likely want to stop by there anyway before he heads north, so he can accompany you there."
'Cillian' bowed. "Thank you, my lord."
#
Lord Riordan was looking over the ledger books detailing the accounts for Princess Catalina's newly bestowed dower lands of Mollingford and Woodbridge, trying to familiarize himself with the annual incomes and expenses of those towns so he and the princess could determine how much of the expected income to hold in reserve for her upcoming household expenses and how much could be spared to assist in the war effort. Knowing there would be less need to provide lavish entertainment or an extensive wardrobe suitable for ceremonial Court functions here at her new home in the middle of wartime, she had decided that at least some of her marriage portion would be of greater use providing provisions or additional hired soldiers for her lord rather than the entire income being held in reserve for her own personal expenses.
"So, what have you managed to discover thus far?" Catalina asked as she joined him at the window seat where he had positioned his desk to take advantage of the natural light streaming into the room. He glanced up at her briefly before tilting the page so she could view it more clearly.
"At first glance, it would appear that you're rich, Your Highness," he joked.
She laughed. "For the moment, maybe. Wars are expensive things, I hear. Fortunately I won't need to fund the entire enterprise myself."
"No, but...." He added a few additional calculations to a scrap sheet of paper along with the ones he had already been working on. "I'm thinking you can spare enough to provide another fifty to sixty foot soldiers or archers, with sufficient provisioning for two months until the supply trains bring in more. That should still leave you with enough to deal with your annual household needs plus a bit of extra buffer to draw from in case any unexpected expenses should arise before this year's rents and taxes have been collected."
"All right. I suppose every bit helps. I don't suppose you've had a chance to get a look at the current state of our muster roll yet, just so I can get a sense of how short of our expected needs we still fall?"
"I have not, though it would greatly surprise me if your husband hasn't had a close look at the most recent numbers, so you might just ask him directly. At any rate, it's likely the numbers will still fall short of the actual levies he can expect, since I doubt the most recent updates to the record would have arrived in Rhemuth yet from the more distant parts of the kingdom like Kheldour or Cassan."
"Kheldour at least should have a great deal of incentive to provide men and materiel for the cause, given that Nördmarcke is practically on their doorstep," Catalina reflected.
"Yes, it's amazing how motivating a direct threat to one's home and family can be towards making a man more mindful of his civic duty."
The door opened. Riordan stood to bow as he saw the Prince enter the room, the Princess looking up from the ledger a split second later. Smiling up at her husband, she stood also, bobbing a brief curtsey before walking around the desk and towards him. "Lord Riordan and I have been going over the numbers in my dower accounts. It looks like I can provide around sixty men and two months' provisioning for them for your levies."
Prince Nicholas shot a startled look at Riordan before looking back at his wife. "Every bit of aid is appreciated, but you realize your dower monies are for your own personal and household maintenance, right?"
"Yes, I know." Catalina brushed a ball of lint off her new husband's tunic. "But as I am Gwyneddan now, I figure I have a vested interest in the kingdom's wellbeing. Not to mention your safety." She smiled up at him.
The prince grinned, taking his wife's hand and bringing it up to his lips, laying a light kiss on her fingertips. "Thank you."
"What are the muster numbers looking like?" she asked him.
Nicholas sighed. "Not as high as I would prefer, but decent enough at present and likely to look even better once we get the full count in. We just received a commitment from Llyr this morning of a good number of warships and fighting men."
"Likely more than a few fighting women as well, if they're coming from Llyr," Riordan remarked.
The Prince chuckled. "Yes, I imagine so, though I'm trying not to dwell on that too deeply. I know it's a cultural difference, not any genuine doubt that they can do the job, having seen Llyrians in action, but something within me resists the idea of sending women into battle, even knowing they're Llyrian warriors who are very well trained and far from helpless."
"I'm surprised they managed to get a reply to you this early in the year," Riordan commented. "I would have thought all their ships were still safely harbored for the winter."
"I would imagine so too, but fortunately couriers and Transfer Portals still exist."
Riordan considered that information. Given that the locations of portals tended in most cases to be closely guarded secrets, and the ability to use one depended on the user having either visited the destination portal before or at least having received the portal signature from another Deryni who had been there, a Llyrian courier who knew the location of a Transfer Portal in Rhemuth was most likely highborn, probably connected in some way to the Royal House of Llyr. "I have kindred in Llyr, Your Highness. Would there be time for me to send a letter back to Shiele by the same courier?"
"Ample time to write one, but as for sending it back the same way, I'm afraid that will have to wait. The courier will be remaining here in Gwynedd for the foreseeable future." Turning back to his wife, he quietly added, "If you're done looking over your accounts, could I borrow you for a little while?"
"Of course." Catalina smiled up at her husband and allowed him to gently steer her towards his bedchamber.
#
February 2, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
The Prince's Bedchamber
Early afternoonColin fell backwards onto the mattress with a weary sigh. Catalina smiled affectionately at him as she sat on the edge of the bed, running a finger over his cheek. "You need a shave."
He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her down beside him. "I need a
nap, though I'm not likely to get one anytime soon." He leaned over to kiss her thoroughly. "I hate to do this, but I have a huge favor to ask."
"Mm. Well, so far you're certainly going about it in the right way."
"Am I? Do you need further convincing? I'm willing to do my convincing best," he said with a teasing grin.
She laughed. "It might be best if you tell me what you want first. I might not be quite so persuadable once I know."
"That's what I'm afraid of." He rolled onto his back, closing his eyes. "
Maman was all in a lather this morning. It seems she has just received word that we can expect the Prince of Beldouria to pay a visit to our court."
"Well, she
did invite him, from what I understand, so is that unexpected?" Catalina asked.
"The timing of it is. Apparently the message somehow got delayed, so Prince Alarikos and his retinue could arrive as early as tomorrow. But that's not all."
"Oh dear. What's the rest of it?"
"King Dafydd of the United Kingdoms has also sent word back that he would be delighted to accept the Dowager Queen of Gwynedd's kind invitation. It appears
he will be arriving around the same time.
And since he has been entertaining a house guest at his court in Connait for the past several months, and they are en route back to his palace in Pwyllheli, they hope to make the detour together."
"I see. And his house guest is...?"
"Prince Philippe of Bremagne. And they will be arriving with their retinues sometime within the week as well."
Catalina laughed. "I think all of your mother's Christmases are coming at once, but I can see why she might be wanting to yank her hair out at the roots right now. I take it you are asking if I can assist with the necessary arrangements?"
"Would you please, before she drives the entire household crazy? Alixa ideally should be hosting their visits, which I think she could manage more easily if they were arriving one at a time and with more advance notice, but she is feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of the task, and Richeldis has already been pressed into service to help out, but something tells me they will still need some additional assistance."
"And Elisa?"
"Frantically trying to cram as much Llanneddan and Howiccan into her head as she can at such short notice, and despairing of ever learning Connaiti."
"Poor dear. I think I would be terrified at the prospect of marrying into a court where I had only the shakiest grasp of the local language. At least I can manage well enough in Gwyneddan," Catalina said, leaning over to give her new husband a kiss.
Dark-lashed eyes fluttered open, regarding her lazily. "You do far better than just managing 'well enough.' Come here, beautiful bride." He reached up, pulling her closer.
"Why?"
He nuzzled her neck. "I intend to go on persuading you."
#
February 2, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
Early afternoonAfter returning the ledger books to their designated shelf in the Royal Exchequer, Riordan decided it was an absolutely glorious afternoon for a walk. The wind was brisk, but not quite gale force, and the dark gray skies looming overhead weren't quite laden enough to drop rain by the bucketload onto his bowed head just yet as he emerged from the King's Tower in a less than equanimous mood.
He shivered underneath his new oiled wool cloak, recently purchased for the colder and wetter climate of wintry Gwynedd, as he made his way through the garden towards the stables to check on the new Andelonian horses. It was the first time he'd had the need for the cloak, as the sunshine of the previous few days had taken a turn as if to match itself to his state of mind.
He found Salim there, also checking with the head groom to see how they were adjusting to their new environment. Salim was still garbed and geared up for weapons practice. That was an excellent idea, Riordan realized, especially since it had been over a week since he'd found time to keep up his training. Unfortunately his own armor and practice swords were all upstairs in the apartment he'd just fled, but the need to stay in fighting trim was hardly likely to go away overnight, especially with a war on the horizon, so perhaps in the morning that would be a good way to release some of the pent up tension he was feeling.
"How did your practice go?" Riordan asked.
"Quite well," Salim answered. "I think the squires enjoyed the chance to spar against someone new, and I enjoyed the chance to beat them." He winked, coaxing a reluctant laugh from his friend. "I see you have dressed for the turn in the weather. Did you have plans to go somewhere?"
"Anywhere," said Riordan. "Out of the castle, preferably."
Salim raised a dark brow. "Hm. Well, let me go change out of my practice clothes and find something suitable to go into the City in. The Sultana says there is
qahwa to be had somewhere near the river docks, and I don't intend to go another morning without some. I could use your unique talents to help me find it."
Riordan gave him a wry smile. "You could use a scribe to help you find
qahwa?""Your
other unique talents."
"Ah. Or, you know, we could simply ask someone which merchant sells the beverage."
Salim grinned. "My friend, where is the challenge in
that?"#
As he waited for Salim to emerge from the King's Tower, Riordan felt a familiar presence nearby. The last time he had felt that particular presence, he had been visiting his father's kinfolk in Llyr.
The Prince's courier was a
Banfhlaith? Riordan wondered if King Cinhil and Prince Nicholas was aware that the
Ard-Tiarna Cormac's messenger was one of the younger princesses of Shiele.
The door to the King's Tower opened, but it was not Salim who emerged. "Hello, cousin," said a vaguely familiar voice coming from a vaguely familiar face that was not who Riordan had been expecting. He wasn't thrown off his stride for more than a split second, since he could see through the illusion, but he had to admit it was a very convincing one.
Banfhlaith Saoirse? Riordan cast a quick look around as he also extended his senses outwards, and finding no one else crazy enough to be outdoors in this weather, offered the
Ard-Tiarna's youngest sister a courteous bow.
I'm just Cillian of Llyr in this guise. The Haldane men know me for who I am, and of course the Arilans. Otherwise I prefer to keep a low profile.
Understandable.The door opened again, and this time it was Salim, more thoroughly bundled up in cold weather clothing. "Are you ready?" he asked Riordan with a curious look at the youth facing him.
Riordan made the necessary introductions. "Lord Salim, may I present Cillian of Llyr." Normally he would have presented the lord to the princess in deference to their respective ranks, but since Saoirse wished to remain anonymous, so be it.
"We were just about to head to the dockside market in search of the desert drink called
qahwa." Riordan informed his distant cousin. "Would you like to join us?"
"I would, but I'm about to head out of the City," 'Cillian' said. "Perhaps another time." He bowed in farewell, excusing himself and heading towards the gatehouse.
Salim waited until the Llyrian was well out of earshot, even for a Deryni, before sounding a low whistle. "She's
very good."
Riordan gave him a sharp look. "Most people, even trained Deryni, don't see through the illusion unless they are specifically looking for it."
Salim smiled. "Most people, even trained Deryni, my friend, don't have Anviller training. Is the Prince's squire Sebastian aware of that 'young man's' true identity?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because she slept in the squires' chamber for a few hours this morning. I sensed them entering our apartment together very shortly before dawn, and since I didn't know who she was or why she was there, I remained awake and vigilant until they re-emerged and left the Tower a few hours later, to ensure she was no threat to the Sultana or the Prince. At first I thought the squire was just sneaking one of the servant girls into his bed under cover of darkness, but when the same presence re-emerged as a 'lad,' I thought perhaps she might be in the Arilans' service." He gave Riordan a questioning look.
"You're asking the wrong person," Riordan replied.
#
February 2, 1464
Rhemuth Castle
Late afternoonLords Riordan and Salim returned from the dockside market a fair bit wetter and colder, but with moods much improved, Salim's by the discovery of a decent stock of his favored
qahwa beans as well as the
dallah to brew them in, and Riordan's by a very different sort of discovery, also made in the
qahwa seller's shop.
He was sketching images of it now, the first only a rough sketch detailing the basic outlines of the odd chair the elderly merchant had been sitting in, which was a strange contrivance that had wheels attached to each leg of the chair, and handles jutting from the top of the seat back so the merchant's wife could push the legless man around his stall in it. The seat was set at a slight downward slant towards the back, the angle helping to keep the man securely seated with his back supported, even when the wheels encountered some unevenness in the ground along his path.
He began a second sketch once he was satisfied with the first, this time adding elements to the design that he thought might improve upon its function and appearance, such as a small foot rest, a padded seat, and elaborate decorative carvings to make it look more beautiful rather than merely functional.
His
Princesa's Prince emerged from his bedchamber, looking freshly rested and even shaven. He gave Riordan a look of mild surprise, as if wondering if his wife's amanuensis had been seated at his writing desk the entire afternoon, still poring over her account ledgers. Riordan picked up his first sketch and held it up for the Prince's view. "The Princess has mentioned that His Majesty rarely emerges from his apartment because of his difficulties in getting around over longer distances. I saw one of these in use at the dockside market earlier today and wondered if he might find it of interest."
The Prince crossed the room to take a closer look at the sketch being presented. After a quick glance, he cast a curious eye on the other sketch in progress on Lord Riordan's desk. "You said you saw this at the market. Was it for sale, or in use?"
"It was one made for the merchant's personal use, for he had lost both of his legs. But it seemed to work well enough for his purposes, from what I could see. He made most of his sales from his stall table, but when he needed to go into the shop itself, his wife seemed to have only a little difficulty pushing him around in it." Riordan pointed to the area where the wheel was joined to the chair leg in his second sketch. "I was thinking if perhaps this lowest part of the leg had some sort of pivot that would allow just that portion of it to turn, that might make it easier to push the chair around corners. And also some sort of cushion could be added to the seat and back to make it more comfortable to sit in for a longer stretch of time."
"Hm. Yes, that could work. The main difficulty would be getting him to the lower floors where he would be most likely to want to make use of it, but if it can be pushed across slightly uneven ground, I might have an idea for how he could get out and about in one." Prince Nicholas looked back at the rougher sketch in his hand. "If you have no further need of this, I'd like to show it to our Royal Physician just to make sure he doesn't see any problems with using this sort of contrivance for the King's need. But if you could continue working on your improved version, I'd be very interested in seeing it once you're done. We will be hosting a series of State visits over the next week or two, and I suspect the King my brother would very much prefer to meet our distinguished guests in the Great Hall rather than in his bedchamber, if that can possibly be managed, and if our carpenter and wheelwright can manage to put one together in time for their arrival."
"I will try to get a final version to you as early as I can, Your Highness, hopefully this evening, so your craftsmen can get started on it as soon as possible if you think the design will suit."
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Very clever. The creation of a wheelchair that will allow Cinhil to spend more time out of his chamber and to greet important guests in the great hall. Love the description. You do have the most amazing imagination.
I feel that Nicholas is not managing very well in maintaining his determination not to fall in love with Catalina - or at the least be very attracted to her.
Quite a few developments, but I confess to wondering how long the two halves of Nicholas' love lives will go without meeting. It would be rather indiscreet for such an encounter to be at court, but I suspect that the two are rather curious about each other.
The press of time may mean that happens when he is well away at war (which might be the best for his nerves).
I suspect that they will both be covertly finding out as much as they can about each other, though that will be difficult. Mellie lives very isolated and I think that it will be hard for Catalina to get a balanced picture of Mellie, with people either trying to curry favour by dissing Mellie or stir up trouble by doing the opposite.
It will be interesting to see what develops.
Catalina prayed the find ways into her new husband's heart and affections. Looks like she is making a good beginning. There has been no mention of Mellie so it's hard to know what the future holds for her. I don't see her continuing as Nickolas's mistress. It would be very selfish of him and I don't think he is a selfish person. I like to think a way will be found for Mellie to build a new life, perhaps with someone else.