"You're a sweet man, my lord," Merry said, rocking the baby gently, "but there's no place for a man in a nursery- Raising bairns is woman's work."

"I know, but you'll have to admit that the Lady Mar- ianna isn't exactly the domestic type."

Merry cackled. "G.o.ds love you, I'm the one that'll tend to that. I raised the young mistress and you'll have to admit that she hasn't turned out badly. There's no need to fash yourself. Little Daria will be just fine.''

Jarrod was not at all certain that he wanted his daughter to grow up to be exactly like her mother, but there was no way he could say that to Mrs. Merieth.

Tradition was too strong to allow him to make too many demands. There was no cult of the Great Mother in Arundel, but there might as well have been.

"There are no better hands that she could be in, Mrs.

Merieth," he said diplomatically.

"You take care of the mistress and I'll take care of the young 'un," she said with a knowing grin.

Jarrod nodded and smiled. I must arrange some way of seeing more of my daughter, he thought as he walked out, though he had no idea of how he could arrange it.

There were no guests at Hall that night and, perhaps as a consequence, Jarrod drank too much. He did not make a spectacle of himself, managed to talk civilly to both Sir Kerris and his wife about matters pertaining to the Holding, but he was aware as he negotiated the stairs to his chambers that he was a mite unsteady.

Semmurel was waiting to help him undress and to put his clothes away, but if he noticed that anything was amiss, he was wise enough not to let it show. Jarrod washed with care and bade the man good night as the

296 bed curtains were pulled. He did not remember going to sleep.

When he woke to Make the Day, his mouth was dry and his head hurt. Cold water alleviated the symptoms and the ritual banished the pain. He was contemplating going back to bed, but Semmurel was waiting for him when he reached the room. He looked excited and he was holding a piece of paper in his hand.

"A message, sir; from the capital, sir; by bunglebird."

He waved the paper. "I took the liberty of transcribing it," he added, his previous rect.i.tude apparently forgot- ten.

"Let me have some chai first, Semmurel, then you can read me the message," Jarrod said and went and sat on the bed.

Semmurel complied and waited patiently as Jarrod sipped the hot liquid. When his master was finished, Semmurel cleared his throat and read, "Ragnor dead.

Return Celador immediately." He looked at Jarrod. "It is from Greylock. At least that is what I think the bird said."

Jarrod felt a sudden emptiness that had nothing to do with the previous night's indulgence. "Why didn't you tell me that right away?" he said tiredly, and then waved his hand to cut off the answer that he knew would come. He felt tears p.r.i.c.k at his eyelids.

"Get out one of my Magician's robes, Seromurel," he said gruffly. "Then go and ask Sir Kerris to attend me here immediately. Word of this must be taken to the Holdmaster. After that, present my respects to the Lady Marianna and tell her that I must see her within the hour."

"Immediately, my lord. And shall I be accompanying you?"

"I'm afraid not. I shall be leaving alone and I shall

THE UNICORN PEACE t 297

travel by unicorn. There's no possible way that you could keep up."

"Very well, sir. I'll pack some things for you. And, sir, I'm very sorry to have been the bearer of such bad tidings."

"The worst of all possible tidings," Jarrod said sadly.

"He was a great man, but he was also my friend."

ch^ptCR 25

* arrod had spoken from his heart, but he had also expressed the feelings of a great many people on Strand.

Ragnor had been Archmage for as long as most could remember. There had been no other Archmage, with the possible exception of Errathuel, seen by so many in the flesh. His long tenure, coupled with the final defeat of the Outlanders, had fueled rumors that he was the leg- end returned. It was a rumor that the old man had never denied. He had told Jarrod, on their triumphal tour around Strand, that such speculation enhanced the im- age of the Discipline, but, close as Jarrod was to him at that point, he wasn't certain if the Archmage was being serious or simply disingenuous.

The news of the death raced across the land. It took a fortnight to reach Angorn and a sennight more to penetrate as far south as Quern. Even in the Empire, where magic was viewed with suspicion at the best of times, there was a sense of personal loss. This was one death that struck a universal chord. Peasants in Um- bria, tradesmen in Isphardel, herdsmen in Songuard, all felt his pa.s.sing as keenly as the Magicians at the Out- post.

In was in Arundel, however, that the outpourings of grief were most intense. Ragnor's time as Regent was recalled with nostalgia in town, hamlet and holding.

Contributions to the Discipline flooded in. Flowers and offerings were left at the bases of the many statues that 299.

had been erected at the time of the victory over the Everlasting Foe. Ragnor would have enjoyed it all im- mensely. The Court was in deep mourning and the crowds that thronged into the capital were subdued, though there was an undercurrent of excitement. Every crowned head and notable on Strand was expected to attend.

Jarrod and Marianna materialized in the post-harvest stubble of the field beyond the walls. Jarrod had ex- pected to make the trip on his own, but Marianna had been adamant. She had been up yelling for her tiring woman before Jarrod was out of the room. Nastrus pulled grumblingly at the brown stalks and Jarrod slipped off his back to lighten the load. He took off his cloak and slung it over the back of the saddle. As they approached the city they saw that the walls were draped with black cloth. There were no flags flying. The guards at the gate wore purple sashes. In the courts there were groups of people talking quietly. They stopped and stared at the unicorn as it pa.s.sed, but there was none of the wild welcome that Nastrus was used to. When the little party reached the stables, things were quiet;

no n.o.blemen taking their horses out to hunt, no Royal Messengers preparing to gallop to the ends of the king- dom. A groom came out, exchanged a few civil words and led Nastrus to his accustomed byre.

"I'd better get to Magicians' Court and see how Greylock's doing," Jarrod said as they stood with the saddlebags at their feet.

"Oh no you don't," Marianna countered. "First we go to the Chamberlain and get ourselves a.s.signed a de- cent apartment. You may-be a Mage, but you are also here as my husband. I imagine that we are among the first ones here, of those of any account, I mean, and that's fortunate. This place will be aswarm in a sennight and I want to make sure that we are comfortable and

300 in quarters that reflect our joint status." She looked up at him and the eyes were sharp and undeniable.

"Yes, dear," he said meekly.

"Good. Now get one of these lads to carry our bags and be sure that you tip him properly."

She lifted her skirts and set off across the cobbles.

Jarrod secured the services of a stable hand and hurried to catch up with her. When they reached the palace steps, he proffered his arm and she took it with a smile.

"If we have any problems with the Chamberlain, leave the talking to me," Marianna said. "I know more about the accommodations than you do and I've dealt with the man before." Jarrod nodded his acceptance.

The Chamberlain proved amiable to the point of ob- sequiousness and, to Jarrod's surprise, Marianna ac- cepted the man's first suggestion. Pages were sent for and they were escorted to a rather grand set of rooms with a cabinet and a private privy. The Chamberlain had, with the merest hint of reluctance, agreed to a.s.sign a maid and a manservant to them, and Marianna had sweetly agreed to interview suitable candidates that af- ternoon. Jarrod had the distinct impression that the Chamberlain had not intended that there be any choice, but Marianna was not an easy woman to deny, espe- cially when she was being charming. Apart from polite h.e.l.los and equally polite good-byes, Jarrod had said nothing.

"Rather fancy," he said after the last page had left in search of the wine that Marianna had ordered. "An- teroom, a separate sitting chamber, the lot."

"Yes, I know," Marianna said with a mysterious lit- tle smile. "I've been entertained here before." The smile broadened. "You see, my dear, the combination of the Discipline and the old aristocracy is hard to top."

"And you didn't even have to haggle."

"I didn't need to," she replied lightly. "This occasion 301.

is going to be managed by the Discipline, even though it is a state funeral. The Queen is a member of the High Council of Magic. My husband is a Mage." She c.o.c.ked her head to one side. "Now what choice did the poor man have? He is perfectly well aware that I know my way around the palace and that most of the best suites haven't been a.s.signed as yet." She laughed mischie- vously. "There was no need to tell him that you are the Duke ofAbercorn."

"I think we should keep it that way, don't you, dear?"

Jarrod said quickly.

She gave him a look. "It guarantees us a seat at the High Table, at least until the royals get here."

"Well I'm glad to be of use."

She caught the irony in his voice. "Marriage to me hasn't exactly hurt your chances of being the next Arch- mage," she rejoined.