Read Online Elvenborn by Mercedes Lackey, Andre Norton - Free Book Online
Authors: Mercedes Lackey, Andre Norton
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go hunt me out a couple of suitable females so I can make a selection for a bride. I'd likely only bungle the job; you, however, will manage it brilliantly."
Lydiell stared at him with her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide and her eyebrows arched as high as they would go. "Are you serious?" she demanded. "Are you really ready to wed?"
She didn't say "at last" but she didn't have to.
He shrugged. "As ready as I am ever likely to be, and with all the unrest about, it would probably be better to get it over with before it becomes impossible for you to travel around to find me someone."
Lydiell's expression assumed a faint cast of guilt. "I swore to
your father I would never pressure you into marrying someone for whom you had no affection," she began. "And—"
"And you aren't going to now," he replied firmly. "I've just gotten over the expectation that the perfect woman will some¬how drop out of the sky on gossamer wings, emerge nixielike from the river, or materialize spirit-wise out of the forest, and make me fall into passionate love with her. A girl who won't become a risk for us is far more important, and you're the best judge of that. So far as my own needs are concerned, someone I can tolerate over breakfast will do nicely. If we have some things in common so that we don't baffle or bore each other, better still." He put his hand over his mother's as it rested on the table, and he felt it tremble. "To my mind, it is far more impor¬tant that she feel love and affection for you, my lady."
"If you found a wife whom you loved but who didn't care for me, I could always retire to the Dowager-House," she began bravely, but he shook his head.
"I know Grandmother loved the Dowager-House and retired there because she found too many memories in these halls, but that won't be the case for you. I couldn't care for anyone who drove you out of your own home, so I rely on you to find me someone sensible. I will be happy with safety, sense, and intel¬ligence, in that order. Now," he continued, seeing the light in her eyes and deciding to take advantage of the situation, "Gel and I want to stage another holiday-battle, and we thought we'd have a siege of the Dowager-House instead of the usual woods-battle or field-melee. Do you think we could arrange that?"
As surely as if he had the human magic for reading thoughts, he knew she was engrossed in running over the various matri¬monial possibilities in her mind, and that the moment he had said Gel's name, she dismissed the rest of the sentence as irrel¬evant to the all-important task of matchmaking. "Oh, certainly," she said absently, allowing the servant to take away her soup and serve her a portion of baked eel, a dish she normally never touched. She ate it, too, taking dainty but rapid bites, all of her thoughts occupied with more important things than food.
He grinned to himself, and devoured his own portion without further comment, congratulating himself on his clever maneu-
ver. He'd gotten her approval of the siege—which she would belatedly remember, some time late tonight as she went over the dinner conversation in her mind. By that time it would be too late to retract the approval. And it hadn't cost him anything other than something he'd already made up his mind to do. Sat¬isfaction gave him a hearty appetite, and he enjoyed every bite of his dinner.
Down below the balcony, the lawn stretched out in a plush, velvety slope for some distance before it flattened out and be¬came the village green shared by all of the human servants who had earned cottages in the manor-village. Surrounded by lanterns suspended from stands plunged into the turf, it was brilliantly and festively illuminated. The green served as fair¬grounds, dance-floor, and feast-table in fine weather, and it served the latter two purposes tonight. The warriors, victorious and defeated both, celebrated at long wooden tables that had been carried out from their barracks. Other servants and
Lydiell stared at him with her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide and her eyebrows arched as high as they would go. "Are you serious?" she demanded. "Are you really ready to wed?"
She didn't say "at last" but she didn't have to.
He shrugged. "As ready as I am ever likely to be, and with all the unrest about, it would probably be better to get it over with before it becomes impossible for you to travel around to find me someone."
Lydiell's expression assumed a faint cast of guilt. "I swore to
your father I would never pressure you into marrying someone for whom you had no affection," she began. "And—"
"And you aren't going to now," he replied firmly. "I've just gotten over the expectation that the perfect woman will some¬how drop out of the sky on gossamer wings, emerge nixielike from the river, or materialize spirit-wise out of the forest, and make me fall into passionate love with her. A girl who won't become a risk for us is far more important, and you're the best judge of that. So far as my own needs are concerned, someone I can tolerate over breakfast will do nicely. If we have some things in common so that we don't baffle or bore each other, better still." He put his hand over his mother's as it rested on the table, and he felt it tremble. "To my mind, it is far more impor¬tant that she feel love and affection for you, my lady."
"If you found a wife whom you loved but who didn't care for me, I could always retire to the Dowager-House," she began bravely, but he shook his head.
"I know Grandmother loved the Dowager-House and retired there because she found too many memories in these halls, but that won't be the case for you. I couldn't care for anyone who drove you out of your own home, so I rely on you to find me someone sensible. I will be happy with safety, sense, and intel¬ligence, in that order. Now," he continued, seeing the light in her eyes and deciding to take advantage of the situation, "Gel and I want to stage another holiday-battle, and we thought we'd have a siege of the Dowager-House instead of the usual woods-battle or field-melee. Do you think we could arrange that?"
As surely as if he had the human magic for reading thoughts, he knew she was engrossed in running over the various matri¬monial possibilities in her mind, and that the moment he had said Gel's name, she dismissed the rest of the sentence as irrel¬evant to the all-important task of matchmaking. "Oh, certainly," she said absently, allowing the servant to take away her soup and serve her a portion of baked eel, a dish she normally never touched. She ate it, too, taking dainty but rapid bites, all of her thoughts occupied with more important things than food.
He grinned to himself, and devoured his own portion without further comment, congratulating himself on his clever maneu-
ver. He'd gotten her approval of the siege—which she would belatedly remember, some time late tonight as she went over the dinner conversation in her mind. By that time it would be too late to retract the approval. And it hadn't cost him anything other than something he'd already made up his mind to do. Sat¬isfaction gave him a hearty appetite, and he enjoyed every bite of his dinner.
Down below the balcony, the lawn stretched out in a plush, velvety slope for some distance before it flattened out and be¬came the village green shared by all of the human servants who had earned cottages in the manor-village. Surrounded by lanterns suspended from stands plunged into the turf, it was brilliantly and festively illuminated. The green served as fair¬grounds, dance-floor, and feast-table in fine weather, and it served the latter two purposes tonight. The warriors, victorious and defeated both, celebrated at long wooden tables that had been carried out from their barracks. Other servants and
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