He lifted his head.

"If Your Majesty permits, I would suggest that Jar- rod Courtak is beyond reach at this point, short of as- sa.s.sination. If you attack him, the people will rise on his behalf. As a Mage, he oppresses no one; as a land- owner, on the other hand, he will rouse his share of opponents. Therein may lie Your Majesty's advantage."

"There is no advantage to the throne in that man's a.s.sumption of the Dukedom of Abercorn. It puts en- tirely too much power in the hands of the Discipline.

Besides, he has too much money as it is." She sounded peevish.

This was obviously not the time to remind the Queen that she herself was a Magician. "Your Majesty can impose a very stiff inheritance tax." Brynhaven sug- gested.

280 "Indeed we can." The Queen smiled a small, unpleas- ant smile. "And who knows, our young Mage will yet be tempted into politics." The smile broadened. "Once that happens, a charge of treason is a relatively simple thing and then we can confiscate the lands." She nod- ded two or three times before fixing him with a glitter- ing eye. "See that the estate is a.s.sessed at the absolute maximum," she said. "You may go."

Lord Brynhaven backed from the presence pro- foundly grateful that he had survived the ordeal. Life at Court had become as unsettled and unsettling as it was said to be at Angorn.

The news of the birth came just as the welcoming feast was reaching its climax. The oohs and aahs that greeted the appearance of the elaborate desserts were silenced by the abrupt cacophony of a bell. Jarrod glanced inquiringly at Lady Aylwyth and then the meaning struck him. He pushed his chair back and jumped to his feet as the cheering broke out. He raced from the dais without a word to his dinner companions and took the stairs two at a time. He pulled up in front of Marianna's antechamber and did his best to get his breathing under control.

He walked quietly through the empty outer room and entered the bedchamber without knocking. Mar- ianna was lying in the bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were closed, her face was white except for the black half-circles under her eyes, and her hair was dark with sweat. The coverlet was almost flat. Mrs. Merieth was sitting on the far side of the bed and the Wisewoman was standing on the near side.

She turned and he saw a bundle in a white blanket in her arms. She smiled broadly at him and dropped a little curtsy.

THE UNICORN PEACE.

"You have a bonny daughter, my lord," she said and held out her arms.

He walked over, feeling suddenly unsteady, and looked down at the small, creased, red face. Fine brown hair was plastered to the skull. The eyes, like her moth- er's, were closed.

"Is she ... ?"

"Indeed she is. Perfect in every limb. She screamed the place down until she was washed and then the little beauty went straight to sleep."

"It'll be nice to have a girl to tend again," Merry put in.

"And my wife?" Jarrod asked.

"Sleeping too. She'll be braw when she wakes and better still when she's fed the bairn." Merry nodded at her own wisdom and knowledge.

"Did she have . . . ? Was it difficult?"

Merry smiled, revealing missing teeth. "Och, she wailed and cursed like a dying soldier, but it was no harder than her first. She always was one for the dra- matics."

Jarrod found himself grinning inanely at the women.

He was a father. That miniature ancient in the Wise- woman's arms was his daughter. He reached out an enormous forefinger and smoothed the slick, silk hair, marveling at the tiny perfection of ear and mouth. He felt the rising euphoria that he a.s.sociated with Magic making. He blinked and found that his eyes were full of tears, blurring his sight of her. He looked mutely from one woman to the other and swallowed convul- sively. He brushed the tears away and caught his lower lip between his teeth. He walked softly to the bed, stooped and kissed the sleeping Mananna.

He straightened up, beamed at the two women, blinked hard again, and then made his way carefully to the door. He turned.

282 "Regrettably, I have guests below. Thank you, la- dies," he said. "If I am not here when the Lady Mar- ianna wakes, tell her that I love her."

He bowed to each in turn and let himself out. His whoop of joy rang clearly through the doors and the two women smiled at one another knowingly.

"Mayhap she's made a good choice this time, m'dear," Mrs. Merieth said.

ChAptCR 24

^B arrod spent the next two days in a state of intoxi- cation that had little to do with alcohol, although he was required to drink more than a few toasts. In an effort to break free from the castle's attentions, he rode out to visit Sir Ombras. The old man was glad to see him-inactivity obviously weighed on him-but Jarrod found himself feeling sad at the way that old age had treated the Seneschal and oddly resentful of the way that the feeling intruded on his happiness. Nothing, however, could cloud his mood for long. He relished the banquet that was held to celebrate his daughter's arrival. Flushed with wine, he went so far as to kidnap the baby from a protesting Merry and parade her around the Hall as if she were a special dish, which, from his point of view, she was. Merieth followed be- hind them muttering imprecations and cautions, but making no overt moves to restrain him.

He visited Marianna every day, but she was doing her fair share of sleeping. Occasionally he was allowed to peek in on her and saw that she was resting in what seemed like peace. He worried, nevertheless, and voiced his concerns to Wisewoman Jaffney. She seemed so pale and lifeless, in contrast to the l.u.s.ty yelling and redness of his daughter. While his daughter had a.s.sumed, un- invited and of a sudden, an enormous place in his heart, he still worried about his wife.

Quite normal, he was a.s.sured. The Lady Marianna

284 was considered old, from a childbearing point of view.

Jarrod smiled to himself at the idea of what Marianna would have responded to that had she been awake. His wife, he was told, had led an active life and her muscles were those of a much younger woman, but she needed rest; labor was never easy; he must have patience. The final phrase, dismissive, was "You'll be sent for when Her Ladyship feels up to it." And with that, he had to be content.

Jarrod retired to his rooms feeling useless, his former elation quite dispelled. He took off the clothes that he had donned with such care and went and sat on the bed, chin in hands. He was used to being in control of things-other people did his bidding, usually without his having to ask-but Marianna remained an unreach- able enigma. His eyes sought the window and he was reminded again of how small it was. He was circ.u.m- scribed here, the lord, the "new" lord, but scarcely head of the household. Both Marianna and Darius preceded him and always would. He was a foreigner here, an outsider. He had t.i.tles, yes, and land, but they meant nothing in these parts. The baby was his only claim to consideration.

It was in this melancholy condition that Semmurel found him.

"My lord, my lord, a message, a message from Stronta."

Jarrod looked up. "Calmly, calmly. Now, what does it say?"

"I don't know, sir," the valet said, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with righteousness. "This one was written and it was not my place to read it."

"Quite right, Semmurel." Jarrod held out his hand and a small, tightly rolled squip of paper was placed in it. "The magnifying gla.s.s if you please."

285.

Jarrod smoothed out the message and moved the gla.s.s back and forth until the words came clear.

"Your uncle Abercorn is dead. You have inherited t.i.tle and estates. Congratulations. Tokamo."

He read it twice and the valet, watching closely, de- cided that the news was bad. Such stillness did not bode well.

The truth was that Jarrod was having difficulty com- prehending. He had denied his family for so long, blocked off the hurt that their denial of him had caused, that he could not react now. They were all gone and he had never known a one of them, not even his parents.

Action of some sort was required, that he knew. He would have to swear fealty to Naxania at some point and, knowing the Queen, there were bound to be com- plications. He sighed, confirming Semmurel's suspi- cions. He had never wanted this, he had avoided any and all involvements, but now events had caught up with him. He sat up and, with difficulty, ripped the little message into smaller shreds. Semmurel hovered expec- tantly, but Jarrod didn't feel like confiding.

"I thank you," he said. "You may go."

He waited until the doors were closed and then went and got his blue Magician's gown out of the press. In this at least he could be his own man. He made his way up to the bunglebird cote and sent the keeper off on an errand before coaching a none-too-cooperative bird in a message for Tokamo. He took it up to the launching platform and released it. He stood and watched it circle before it lurched off in a northeasterly direction.

He was distracted at Hall that night and less than the perfect host. He was aware of it and hoped that the others put his mood down to the strains of becoming a first-time father rather than displeasure with their com- pany. He was also aware that that would be taken as a sign of weakness. n.o.blemen were supposed to take such

286 things in their stride and he was now, beyond all doubt, a n.o.bleman.

That night he tossed and turned before he slept and, when he did, he dreamed. He was back at the castle that he had helped to build, but it was different. There was gla.s.s in the windows, for one thing, and there were signs that the place was occupied, though he could see no people. The peculiar dread that he had felt in the first dream was with him again, but this time he knew the reason for it. The invisible occupants of the castle were threatened, though by what, or by whom, he did not know.

He turned and looked out over the plain. Nothing but waving gra.s.s to be seen, but that gave him no com- fort. When he turned back, he saw that there was some- one standing on the battlements above the main door.

He could not make out the features, but the figure's scarlet robe blazed in the sunshine. He struggled for- ward, trying to see who it was, but his feet were mired.

If he could get free, he could help; he knew it. He fought, but his progress was infinitely slow and the man's face grew no clearer. The menace was building and he was going to be too late. He tried to shout a warning, but no sound came. He tried again, hurling himself forward, and the effort brought him awake, tan- gled in the sheet, teeth clamped on the bolster.

Jarrod rose and washed and Made the Day, as was his wont. For once the ritual did not have its restorative power and, after a hasty breakfast, he headed down to the stables. A ride with Nastrus would undoubtedly clear away the lingering cobwebs.

'A cloud in the sunny skies of your disposition,' the unicorn commented as Jarrod saddled him. 7 suppose the wonderful feelings had to wear off eventually, but I had hoped that they would keep going a while longer.