might actually enjoy the seven days of feasting on the holiday.
five
MIDWINTER SERVICE
The afternoon before the feast that started the week-long holiday of Midwinter Festival, Kel checked her appearance in the mirror at least five times. Each time she turned away, she was convinced that her gleaming brown hair had gotten mussed, her crimson hose twisted, her crimson shirt bunched under her gold tunic. Only another look in the mirror would convince her that she was as neat and elegant as a page could be.
In the normal course of things she would have been nervous, but she might have been able to calm herself. But her parents’ trip back to the Yamani Islands at the end of the fall had been canceled, and they were asked to remain in Corus to help the new Yamani ambassador. The marriage negotiations for Prince Roald and Princess Chisakami had collapsed that summer when the princess died in an earthquake. Now a new imperial Yamani bride must be found, a new marriage contract drawn up. It had taken three years to forge the treaty that marriage to Chisakami would have sealed; it might take another three years for a new treaty to be worked out. Kel’s father had worked on the original agreements, which made him invaluable to the ambassador, who had to draw up new ones.
All this mattered to Kel because it meant that her parents, as well as her sisters Adalia and Oranie, would be in the banquet hall that night. Kel wanted her family to be proud of her; she wanted to give them reason to be proud of her. Over the last summer her sisters had been distant and cool, hard at work turning themselves into proper Tortallan noble maidens and desirable wives. Kel wanted her family to be glad she was of Mindelan.
She was about to check her appearance for a sixth time when a knock sounded on the door. Lalasa opened it to admit Merric, Seaver, Esmond, Neal, and Owen, all in their best uniforms. Jump ran up to them in hopes of a game, then realized that they, like Kel, weren’t wearing playing clothes. As he wagged a dejected tail, he sniffed each boy, then lay down with a sigh. Like Jump, the sparrows seemed to realize they should not land on their two-legged friends. They found perches around the room and watched, chattering.
“Reporting for inspection, General, sir!” barked Seaver as he gave a brisk salute. The boys promptly formed a line, saluted Kel in turn, then stood at attention. All were nervous, even Owen, who would not work in the public hall but on the kitchen stairs, handing dishes from cooks to servers.
Kel put her hands on her hips. “What is this? You came to me because I’m The Girl?” she asked, mock indignant.
“Of course not. You just have an eye for these things,” replied Neal.
“When it isn’t black,” Esmond murmured, and grinned.
“And your maid sews good,” said Owen, showing a rip in his sleeve.
“I have a maid who sews well,” Kel told him. Lalasa found her sewing basket and took out needle and thread.
Kel inspected Merric carefully. He was an inch or two shorter than she was these days, she realized. She tweaked his tunic a little straighter on his shoulders. Seaver’s shirt collar was awry; she tugged until it showed brightly above his gold tunic. Esmond’s clothes were perfect; Neal’s hose had to be adjusted, and Kel gave him one of her drying cloths to blot the sweat from his face.
As Lalasa snipped off the thread she had used to mend Owen’s sleeve, Cleon burst in red-faced, his shirtsleeves untied. “Kel, I can’t for the life of me get my hair to lay flat,” he began, then saw the other boys. Slowly he grinned.
“They said they’re reporting for inspection,” Kel explained. Fourteen-year-old Cleon was five inches taller than she; Kel dealt with that by climbing onto a chair. “Grab that basin of water and come here,” she ordered him. With a comb and enough water, she got his hair in some kind of order.
“Neal, do you know where the Lioness will be sitting?” she asked
five
MIDWINTER SERVICE
The afternoon before the feast that started the week-long holiday of Midwinter Festival, Kel checked her appearance in the mirror at least five times. Each time she turned away, she was convinced that her gleaming brown hair had gotten mussed, her crimson hose twisted, her crimson shirt bunched under her gold tunic. Only another look in the mirror would convince her that she was as neat and elegant as a page could be.
In the normal course of things she would have been nervous, but she might have been able to calm herself. But her parents’ trip back to the Yamani Islands at the end of the fall had been canceled, and they were asked to remain in Corus to help the new Yamani ambassador. The marriage negotiations for Prince Roald and Princess Chisakami had collapsed that summer when the princess died in an earthquake. Now a new imperial Yamani bride must be found, a new marriage contract drawn up. It had taken three years to forge the treaty that marriage to Chisakami would have sealed; it might take another three years for a new treaty to be worked out. Kel’s father had worked on the original agreements, which made him invaluable to the ambassador, who had to draw up new ones.
All this mattered to Kel because it meant that her parents, as well as her sisters Adalia and Oranie, would be in the banquet hall that night. Kel wanted her family to be proud of her; she wanted to give them reason to be proud of her. Over the last summer her sisters had been distant and cool, hard at work turning themselves into proper Tortallan noble maidens and desirable wives. Kel wanted her family to be glad she was of Mindelan.
She was about to check her appearance for a sixth time when a knock sounded on the door. Lalasa opened it to admit Merric, Seaver, Esmond, Neal, and Owen, all in their best uniforms. Jump ran up to them in hopes of a game, then realized that they, like Kel, weren’t wearing playing clothes. As he wagged a dejected tail, he sniffed each boy, then lay down with a sigh. Like Jump, the sparrows seemed to realize they should not land on their two-legged friends. They found perches around the room and watched, chattering.
“Reporting for inspection, General, sir!” barked Seaver as he gave a brisk salute. The boys promptly formed a line, saluted Kel in turn, then stood at attention. All were nervous, even Owen, who would not work in the public hall but on the kitchen stairs, handing dishes from cooks to servers.
Kel put her hands on her hips. “What is this? You came to me because I’m The Girl?” she asked, mock indignant.
“Of course not. You just have an eye for these things,” replied Neal.
“When it isn’t black,” Esmond murmured, and grinned.
“And your maid sews good,” said Owen, showing a rip in his sleeve.
“I have a maid who sews well,” Kel told him. Lalasa found her sewing basket and took out needle and thread.
Kel inspected Merric carefully. He was an inch or two shorter than she was these days, she realized. She tweaked his tunic a little straighter on his shoulders. Seaver’s shirt collar was awry; she tugged until it showed brightly above his gold tunic. Esmond’s clothes were perfect; Neal’s hose had to be adjusted, and Kel gave him one of her drying cloths to blot the sweat from his face.
As Lalasa snipped off the thread she had used to mend Owen’s sleeve, Cleon burst in red-faced, his shirtsleeves untied. “Kel, I can’t for the life of me get my hair to lay flat,” he began, then saw the other boys. Slowly he grinned.
“They said they’re reporting for inspection,” Kel explained. Fourteen-year-old Cleon was five inches taller than she; Kel dealt with that by climbing onto a chair. “Grab that basin of water and come here,” she ordered him. With a comb and enough water, she got his hair in some kind of order.
“Neal, do you know where the Lioness will be sitting?” she asked
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