Three

In which there is a great feast, and Daystar presents the first Great Information Dump

As Daystar feared, Emberlace’s position did nothing to prevent the venomous glances thrown her way by the noblewomen. She hung close to his arm, seemingly intimidated, and Daystar patted her hand.

“They’re only jealous,” he murmured to her as they took their places at the head table. “All of them have been trying to get me to marry one or the other of them for some time now, and they’re angry you succeeded so easily.”

Emberlace cocked her head as she received this piece of information, scanning the room with far more confidence than before. With a rich necklace of sapphires clasped around her neck and an a stunning tiara of openwork silver filigree studded with azureite, she seemed every inch a princess. Daystar watched her for a moment before turning away to stare at the table. He had found Baron Ravenglen before the feast and asked if there was some Damantian custom associated with her silence, only to be told blithely that the princess didn’t talk.

He sighed in frustration, wondering how he was supposed to communicate with her. Ravenglen didn’t seem to think two-sided communication necessary and laughed away Daystar’s concerns.

“Prince Daystar, Princess Emberlace. Congratulations.” Lady Dawncaster curtsied with easy grace and rose with a genuine smile. Like the other noblewomen, she was dressed to kill tonight, in a sweeping gown of stunning red and an elegant arching headdress in glimmering cloth of gold. “I hope to make your acquaintance, my lady, in the days to come.”

Dawncaster’s rich, beaming smile outshone Emberlace’s shy one, and the noblewoman swept away to join the rest of her barony. Now forced by precedent, the other women came to offer grudging congratulations. All thirteen were laden with jewels and silk, gems laced through their hair and bodices until Daystar wondered that they could carry themselves erect. They flounced and twirled, each determined to outshine the demure princess and show Daystar what he was missing. Each also tried to draw Emberlace out into conversation, and Daystar was abruptly grateful for his new wife’s lack of speech. He doubted she knew how to navigate the often vicious court of Ebon Reach, and her current silence endowed her with an aloof elegance that kept her from being drawn into the other women’s petty squabbling and attempts at insults. Every noblewoman retreated bewildered, clearly attempting to puzzle out the challenge offered by their newest rival.

The first course arrived in a flourish of trumpets, and Emberlace sat up a little straighter.

“You’re hungry then?” Daystar asked.

The princess’s stomach answered softly for her, and she blushed and giggled, rubbing at it. Her eyes widened at the massive trays of food as they paraded down the hall between the trestle tables to the head, where the royal family took first pick before the dishes headed back down the hall to the other nobles.

“It’s a pickle,” Daystar explained as Emberlace seemed to regard the platter before her in bewilderment. He pulled one off the platter and held it out to her, and she sniffed it once before taking a careful bite and chewing with a bewildering set of expressions slipping over her face. She seemed to like it in the end, however, and let the servant place several on her plate.

Soup came next in steaming silver tureens heated with magical energy. Emberlace hesitated over the huge selection of spoons beside her plate before carefully picking up the one identical to Daystar’s. Normally one of another of the prince’s admirers would have found a spot by him by now and be chattering in his ear, and he found Emberlace’s silent company a pleasant relief. She seemed focused entirely on enjoying the food and the view.

The high table sat at the head of the banqueting hall, flanked by large tapestries bearing the signet of their house: a rampant wolf. Large lamps filled with energy light hung down the sides of the hall, illuminating the rich hangings, seven to each side, each bearing the symbol or colors of one of the baron’s houses. Red cloths covered all the tables, which were adorned with gleaming silver dishes until you reached the high table, where the dishes were made of gold. King Felstar himself would not attend the feast until the main course was served - he took the rest of his meal in a private balcony hidden above the main floor.

The fish course arrived in full form. Platters piled with fish heads made Emberlace pale, but she seemed to recover herself enough to enjoy a flaky salmon. Snowtiger, in some strange fit of vengeance, took two fish heads and ate them while staring straight at Emberlace, apparently having noticed her discomfort. The princess took in this sight with a sickened look before resolutely ignoring the noblewoman. Daystar sighed with relief, and a thought came to him. Emberlace might not speak, but she clearly understood, and he could give her some advice about navigating the treacherous halls lurking with conniving nobles who would take advantage of a hesitant and inexperienced princess.

“Don’t let them intimidate you,” he said quietly, leaning over the arm of his chair to speak quietly in her ear. “Most of these women are vicious grudge holders or completely devoid of sense, both at worse. Your ignoring them is good. It shows them that you’re unaffected and unwilling to take part in their foolish squabbles for position.”

Emberlace leaned back in her chair, wiping her hands on her napkin and turning her full attention to Daystar.

“Their positions are volatile, yours isn’t. As the crown princess, you are secure in your rank, an advantage they do not have. The weaker barons want to advance themselves, and so do the stronger ones. Every action is calculated on how it would most benefit their house.

“Snowtiger, the woman eating fish heads so voraciously, is from the Barony of South Plain. They’re the farthest south of the kingdom and control most of the agricultural fields. As such, they are very secure in their power and position, and though they could do with more, none of them are likely to act out of fear.

“Dawncaster, the woman in the red dress there who greeted you kindly, is probably the best of the young noblewomen here. She’s also the one you should watch out for the most because she is clever. She comes from the Barony of Far Haven, which is small, but it also contains our only seaport. Once again, they are powerful and secure. But you should make Dawncaster’s acquaintance. Noblewomen make better friends than enemies, and if she is devious, she is also honest, and once she has told you something, you can be sure it is the truth.

“Dancingmist, the blond in gray and silver, is from the Barony of Fairtree. They’re foresters, but their people have a great deal of difficulty growing crops, and they rely heavily on the Woodworker’s Guild for their income and the Barony of South Plain for their supplies. Those alliances make them predictable, but they’re sullen about the control and often react if they feel threatened in any way.

“Willowsong, the blond in red, hails from the Barony of Eastmarch. They’re a narrow barony that guards the east of the kingdom, and since they act as our first line of defense, they often think themselves entitled to more favors than they receive. But of all the baronies, they and the Barony of Northmarch are allowed the most leeway in their actions. Unless we keep their loyalty, our borders are likely to be weakened, which you know is deadly for a kingdom.

“Wanderlace is another I think you should befriend. She’s the one there on the end, dusky skin, brown hair. She comes from the Barony of Fairisle. It’s an island in the middle of a lake, and they’re surrounded by three other baronies. They’re not powerful, but they remain independent and do control most of the inland fishing guilds. Unlike most of the other weak baronies, Fairisle does not feel terribly threatened by the power of the rest, and while they’ll benefit themselves whenever they can, they aren’t likely to cast others down to do it.

“Fairautumn is the red-haired maid beside Willowsong there, with the hammered copper leaves in her hair and the orange dress. She comes from the Barony of the Steppe. They’re primarily horse breeders, and while it brings them a sustainable income, it also puts them down among the other houses, since they’re often viewed as a glorified guild. You can almost always expect them to clash with the other barons, though as you can see, they’re on better terms with Eastmarch, since they provide the cavalry with their mounts. Still, they’re volatile and prepared to do anything to make their power more secure, since they feel threatened by the other baron’s anger.

“Lightglimmer is the black haired woman in white there, close to us at the front of the hall. She comes from the Barony of Deepnight, and you must be very cautious around them. Lightglimmer herself has very little wit or cunning, but she is well directed by those around her and can be dangerous. They have the headquarters of the Transmitter’s Guild in their castle and exercise a great deal of control over it. They are pressuring the crown to give them stewardship over the kingdom’s energy, and the only thing currently holding them back is the disapproval of the other barons, who fear that Deepnight would abuse any power we gave them. Naturally, we don’t intend to give them any such power, but they want it, desperately, and they will work against you constantly, and then just as constantly work for you, whatever they think might gain your trust. Never give it to them.

“Summer is the lady in green with emeralds sewn in her bodice. She is from the Barony of Northmarch, our other defensive border. The line they protect is not as volatile as the Eastmarch line, however, and it gives them less weight. Summer herself, however, should be watched out for, since she is a gossip, and a very skilled one. Hardly anything that goes on in Ebon Reach gets past her, and she is very good at getting people to talk to her with impunity, even if they do have knowledge of her reputation.

“Wingborn comes from the Barony of Hawkstream. She’s there, dark hair, blue dress, sapphire tiara. They control the Glassmaker’s Guild. You might not think that would give them much influence, but along with Fairtree and Grimstone, they exercise a monopoly over the supplies provided for major building projects. The peasants in the baronies grow their own food and build their own homes, but the goods and services used by the noble houses are largely produced by the guilds, and whoever controls the guild controls the entire trade kingdom-wide. Hawkstream, Fairtree, and Grimstone are usually on good terms with each other, and anyone who desires master craftsmen must be on good terms with them as well. It gives them stability, but not as much as they would like, since the other Baronies often have their own craftsmen that they use instead.

“Silverbrooke comes from the Barony of Stormheight. She’s there in the dress that looks like it’s made out of worked silver. Her family controls all the metalworkers guilds, which are involved in everything from weaponry to jewelry making. Of all the baronies, they are probably the most wealthy, since they are able to do most of their own mining and don’t have to trade for the resources used by their craftsmen. That is ending, however, and it is becoming more difficult for them to mine what they need as the veins run dry. They’re out for alliances at the moment, and the other barons know it.

“Featherash is there next to her, in the yellow dress. She comes from Grimstone, which controls the Stonemasons Guilds. They’re the most likely to ally with Stormheight, since they are already delving into the rock in their own country. They rent their workers to the other barons, which means that no one wants to be on bad terms with them.

“Blueangel is there about the middle of the tables, wearing that ghastly pink thing full of ruffles. She comes from the Barony of Rainbasin. They’re merchants, weavers, tailors, and sellers of the finest cloths and embroidery in the kingdom. Few nobles would ever wear anything not made in Rainbasin, since there are few who can match their craftsman’s skill. Blueangel is dramatic in her tastes, but empty headed. Her barony is well liked, but doesn’t have much power, and the other nobles can ignore them easily, since all Rainbasin can do is withhold fabric trade, and if they do so, they lose a major source of their income. They feel the weakness and are constantly looking for ways to exploit the other baronies or make themselves more independent and powerful, but Blueangel is hardly the person to send to Ebon Reach to do this, since she is easily manipulated or tricked.

“Gentlewriter is there in the corner, in brown, with her nose in a book. She hails from the Barony of Runedoor, which is the intellectual center of the kingdom. They train the court philosophers, record keepers, scribes, lawyers, and librarians. They have the keenest understanding of interbaronical politics in the kingdom and know how to manipulate all the barons to their favor. All the brightest minds are sent to be trained by them, but they often recruit the best for themselves to maintain their power. Gentlewriter herself is not a socialite, but she understands people astutely and manipulates them with ease, provided that she notices them at all. If you can successfully battle wits with her, the likelihood is that she will leave you alone. She and Dawncatcher enjoy each other’s company, although they are rivals in many ways, but their arguments are entertaining, and I think they like having them.

“Lilywind is there in white, the one crying. She comes from The Barony of Oakdeep, which is the patron of the Clockworkers Guild. They develop, design, and produce most of the energy-using devices we possess, such as the lamps we use, the writerpads, and the powerpacks used to provide energy for mechanical tools. They neighbor Runedoor and work closely with them; they even have research centers in Runedoor’s universities and recruit from them freely. They are the most interested in gaining control of the energy sources, next to Deepnight, which has made the two bitter rivals. Deepnight controls the Transmitter’s Guild, but Oakdeep has sponsored their own Freetransmitter’s Guild, who they contract but do not control, which prevents them from making an concessions to Deepnight on grounds of needing Transmitters to do wiring or energy transfers for them. Lilywind and Lightglimmer have about the same small intellect and often trade barbs with each other, which keeps the nobles of their baronies in constant conflict. We house them in opposite sides of the castle and hope they never manage to find their way through the halls to fight with each other.”

Emberlace laughed a little in response to this, and Daystar jumped, since his wife had been entirely still throughout his extended lecture.

“That’s not it by half, but I’m sure you’re overwhelmed, and it will give you some understanding of what is going on in the kingdom. Ebon Reach itself functions somewhat like one of the baronies, but we’re smaller and much more powerful, since we control the energy. We make certain every barony gets its proper share of energy, as well as enforcing standard law codes and settling disputes between the barons themselves when they become too dangerous to the functioning of the kingdom. They are often permitted to squabble with each other, and in the past, the rivalries and grudges have been viewed as a good thing, since it keeps the barons from uniting and striking out against the royal family. But I’m not so certain. I think they only view us as another faction to be manipulated - albeit a powerful one - and we do not have their respect or their loyalty, which could be a terrible detriment.”

At another flourish of trumpets, the doors at the end of the hall swung open, and everyone rose as King Felstar entered. He embraced Daystar and gave Emberlace a light kiss on the cheek before taking his seat and signaling for the main course to be brought in.

“You should also know,” Daystar admitted, “that most of these women will be angry with you for a long time. The easiest way to manipulate the royal family is to marry into it - become it - and all of them were scrambling for the opportunity to do so and advance their house’s interests. You were unexpected, and you have removed their ambitions. Every one of them must now settle for a lesser political union. None of them will particularly like you for it for some time now until they set their sights on some other unfortunate young man who is powerful enough for their family’s tastes.”

Like everything else, Emberlace took all this in silently, but Daystar could see something like a burning intelligence behind her eyes and knew she was processing the information. She leaned back and chewed her meat thoughtfully before reaching out to trail her fingers over the back of Daystar’s hand where it sat on the table. He glanced at her in surprise, and she smiled warmly, something almost like mischief glimmering behind her eyes.

“What is it?”

She smiled even more warmly before running her fingers lightly through his hair. This close, Daystar realized her hands were shaking, and and she suddenly seemed more nervous. The mischief left her gaze as she cautiously laid her hand against his cheek and leaned over the arm of his chair to kiss him. Daystar nearly pulled away upon feeling how stiff and forced Emberlace’s gesture was, but she put a hand over his wrist and leaned a little closer, obviously trying to appear relaxed. A disgruntled mutter ran across the crowd, and Emberlace twined shaking fingers through his, still holding their awkward kiss.

Daystar smiled against her lips as he realized his wife’s small strategy, her first move towards confirming her position. It was common for nobles to take mistresses, and Daystar realized Emberlace had guessed - likely correctly - that most of her rivals would attempt to get into his intimate company outside of a marriage if they had to. From the perspective of the nobles, the prince and princess’s interaction probably looked natural and affectionate. We are happy together, it said. It would at the least force them to bide their time until the novelty of a new marriage wore off, which could buy them some peace.

Glancing over to the table where Ravenglen sat with his ambassador, Daystar could see the new baron smiling broadly at them. He inclined his head towards his new father-in-law, and Ravenglen lifted his goblet in acknowledgment.

“You two should retire early this evening,” Felstar noted to them softly, leaning over the edge of his throne as they broke apart.

“There’s really no need,” Daystar spluttered, his cheeks tinging slightly with embarrassment as Emberlace looked away, uncomfortable again. “We’re not actually infatuated with each other.”

“No, but it should appear so. Emberlace can get to her chambers easily through yours, and if you lock the door, no one will know either way. I think you both obviously understand the necessity of appearances.”

“We’ll leave after the next course, then,” Daystar decided. “You have no obligations, Emberlace, truly,” he assured the young woman, taking her hand. “All this is only for show, and I won’t press you to do anything you don’t want.”

Emberlace touched his hand lightly before turning back to her meal, her face calm. When dessert arrived, they dramatically fed each other custard with amused giggles and shared another kiss before finally excusing themselves. Daystar breathed a sigh of relief as the noise of the banquet hall faded, feeling the weight of his self-imposed facade gently lift with the privacy provided by the dimly lit hallways.

“An early night is actually a relief,” he told Emberlace. “Normally I’d be stuck there until dawn dancing with half the women at court.”

She smiled slightly, then came to a halt, accidentally tugging him backward. They were on one side of the castle here, along a wide portico. The castle wall fell like a cliff down to the craggy knoll that formed its foundation, and the Wanderstep River wound through the valley below. Far away on the south-eastern horizon, just at the edge of their vision, a dull glow rose from the mountains of the Cinderstrand. Emberlace didn’t seem to notice the view, however. She slid away from his arm and went up to one of the lamps, gazing at it in wonder and peering into the still depths of golden light.

“Magical energy,” Daystar explained. “They’re all over the castle.”

She nodded, still wondering at them, then lifted her eyes to stare out at the kingdom beyond the castle. Daystar pointed out the general locations of the different baronies, as well as the Dragonland - the Cinderstrand.

“They’re angry,” he explained of the fiery glow. “Terribly angry, and no one knows why.”

***

They reached Daystar’s chambers, and the guards saluted as they passed, locking the door behind them.

“Goodnight,” Daystar said softly, nodding to Emberlace.

The princess let go of his arm and stood for a moment, staring at the curtained door to her chambers, then turned back. Daystar stood still while she lifted off his circlet and helped him out of his formal robe, laying them over a chair near the wardrobe. The servants who usually attended Daystar at night slipped in the servant’s entrance, and Emberlace swiftly dismissed them with a flick of her hand, and Daystar mentally kicked himself. If anyone in the castle gossiped, it was the servants, and he should have realized they would need to keep up pretense long enough to send them away. He thought to compliment Emberlace on her quick thinking, only to see her removing her jewelry and shoes before laying sinuously down on the bed, watching him.

***

Daystar lay in the dim light, body comfortable while his brain tangled up in different confused thoughts, that his wife was very beautiful, that none of the guards he had heard joke about this never mentioned anything about awkward embarrassment - but then lying with a woman he barely knew probably didn’t help - and now her face pressed against his shoulder was damp, and he realized that Emberlace was crying.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, ashamedly pulling back, suddenly wondering if he’d somehow taken advantage of her or pressed her to something she didn’t want. “I’ll leave you be and go sleep in the other room.”

Her arms locked around his head and shoulders, tangling in his hair and pulling him back against her even as another wracking sob shook her body. Emberlace huddled close to Daystar, brushing a few light touches against him that seemed meant to be reassuring. Daystar relaxed slowly as he realized that there was some other cause to her tears besides him. Her life had just turned on its head, and he realized that she must be too emotionally exhausted to contain herself. He shifted them to a more comfortable position, pulled the sheets warmly around them, and let his arms drape loosely around Emberlace as she sobbed herself to sleep.