loss
of her eyelashes just when she knew Perlith had decided to offer for her—which
offer had then had to be put off till they were long enough again for her to look
up at him through them. (She had actually been weak enough to wonder if Aerin
was Gifted after all, her timing in this case being no less than diabolical.) But it
had occurred to her lately that it would be a boon to find a way to keep Aerin out
of the ceremony itself, without giving visible public offense (and since the surka
hadn’t killed her off, which, to give Galanna what little credit she deserves, she
had not been attempting). Galanna understood as well as Perlith did why Tor had
been asked, and would stand as first companion; but Tor was reliable, for all his
disgusting sympathy for his youngest cousin. He believed in his first sola’s place as
Aerin had no reason to believe in her place as first sol; and Aerin, if dragooned
into performing some ceremonial role, would by fair means or foul mess things
up. Nothing was going to spoil Galanna’s wedding day. She and Aerin understood
each other very well when Aerin, formal and smiling, offered her apologies and
regrets, and Galanna, formal and smiling, accepted them.
Tor had been busier since then, often away from the City, showing himself to
the Hillfolk who came rarely or never to the City, that they might one and all know
the face and voice of the man who would be their king someday; and it had also
been soon after Tor’s coming of age that Aerin had eaten the surka. While it lay
heavily on her she had not wished to see much of him even when he was at
home, though he had come often to sit by her when she was too sick to protest
and even, without her knowledge, put off one or two trips that he might stay near
her. But as she got enough better to be surly about not being well, and as his
absences of necessity increased, a barrier began to grow up between them, and
they were no longer quite the friends they had once been. She missed him, for
she had been accustomed to talking to him nearly every day, but she never said
she missed him, and she told herself that it was as well, since the surka had
proved Galanna three-quarters right about her, that the first sola not contaminate
himself with her company too often. When she did see him, she was painstakingly
bright and offhand.
A few days after Talat had trotted halfway round his pasture with Aerin on his
back, she asked Hornmar what had become of Talat’s tack. She knew that each of
the court horses had its own, and Kethtaz would never be insulted by wearing bits
of his predecessor’s gear; but she was afraid that Talat’s might have been
destroyed when his leg had doomed him. Hornmar, who had seen Talat jogging
around his field with Aerin at attention on his back, brought out saddle and girth
and bridle, for while he had thought they would never be used again, he had not
had the heart to get rid of them. If Aerin noticed that they appeared to have been
freshly cleaned and oiled, she said nothing but “Thank you.” The same day that
she carried Talat’s gear up to her room and hid it in her wardrobe (where Teka,
finding it later, also found that it had left oil spots on Aerin’s best court dress), she saw from her window Tor riding in from one of his rounds of political visits; and
she decided it was time to waylay him.
“Aerin,” he said, and hugged her gladly. “I have not seen you in weeks. Have
you your dress made yet for the wedding of the century? Who won, you or Teka?”
She pulled a face. “Teka has won more ground than I, but I refused to wear it in
yellow at all, so at least it’s going to be a sort of leaf green, and there’s less lace.
It’s still quite awful.”
Tor looked amused. When he looked amused she almost forgot she had
decided that it was better that they weren’t such good friends any more. “Have
supper with me,” he said. “I must have dinner in the hall—I
Learning to Kill: Stories