The King’s Sorcerer
By Sharon Green
Copyright 2010 by Sharon Green and Blushing Books
Published by Blushing Books at Smashwords
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Chapter One
Damon Am'Troff, master sorcerer to the king, sprawled in an armchair in his study and fumed. There had to be a way to make the king change his mind, but after more than an hour of heavy thinking Damon hadn't been able to find that way.
"Has your temper cooled yet, Master Sorcerer?" Liegro asked from his perch. "If so, perhaps you'd care to share what put you so far out of sorts in the first place."
Damon looked over at the owl, glowering as he thought about whether or not to answer. Liegro wasn't really an owl, just a being who enjoyed wearing the form of an owl, and after all the years he'd associated with Damon it was a waste of time to glower at him. It was also a waste of time refusing to answer his question. When it came to being curious, the form of a cat would have been more appropriate than that of an owl.
"The king wants me to marry," Damon finally grudged, a definite growl in his deep voice. "He actually went so far as to lecture me about my responsibility to the craft as well as to the kingdom in general. Those with the power have to marry and produce children, otherwise the ability to do magic could well disappear, he insists. It makes no difference to him that the last thing I want is a woman intruding in my life and ruining the peace and quiet of my house."
"I would wager that the king found out you see to your bodily needs with ladies of the evening," Liegro commented, the ghost of a hint of laughter behind the words. "His Majesty was made to marry very young, and thereafter wasn't allowed to indulge himself with ladies of the evening. He most likely feels that if he can't, neither can you."
"I'm not the king so I can bloody well do as I please," Damon growled, this time glaring at Liegro. "And if I were the king, I'd never have let someone else dictate to me. If Sythen has no backbone, that's not my fault."
"Thanks to you, King Sythen has developed backbone," Liegro pointed out, the words continuing mild as he shifted just a little on the perch. "Ever since you agreed to be the king's sorcerer, those men who were used to … advising the king have stepped back and now think twice before speaking. Sythen, on the other hand, has stopped hesitating when it comes to speaking his mind."
"I noticed that," Damon returned dryly, draping his arms over the chair's padded arms. "And he made sure not to speak to me privately, to keep me from frightening him into changing his mind. Too many of those courtiers of his know what he told me to do, and if I ignore the command or try to refuse there will be … repercussions."
"Mostly in your direction," Liegro agreed, and now a sadness had entered his voice. "Men fear sorcerers as a matter of course, but a sorcerer bound to obey the king is tolerated. If those men should become convinced that you aren't bound to obey the king…"
"I'll either have to leave here or use my arts on the people I'm supposed to protect," Damon finished when Liegro didn't, his own voice heavy with distaste. "Since I don't care for either of those options, I have no choice but to go along with an insufferable command."
"It might be possible to turn the command bearable instead," Liegro mused, obviously considering the problem. "Just as you want nothing to do with marriage, there must be females about who look at the matter in the same way. If you were able to find such a female and she proved to be amenable to the arrangement, you both would then be able to continue with living separate lives even though you married."
"The woman would have to have more than average intelligence, but if she did…" Damon let his words trail off as he sat straight, and then a grin broke through the frown he'd been showing. "By all the Secrets, Liegro, I think you've come up with the answer. If I can find a woman like that, I can make part of the house hers and then we won't even have to see each other. Except at mealtimes, of course. It would never do if I forgot what my wife looked like."
"No, that would certainly not do," Liegro agreed, and now the amusement had returned to his tone. "It would be foolish to raise the king's suspicions about why you aren't producing all those children he mentioned."
"My very virtuous stance will be that the gods obviously don't want me producing progeny," Damon said as he got to his feet. "Or the fault might well lie with my lovely wife. If the king suggests that I put her aside, I'll be too deeply in love to commit such a terrible act. Now all I have to do is arrange to find my partner in crime, so to speak. I'll try an ordinary search first, and if that doesn't produce results I'll have to - "
A knock at the study door interrupted Damon, and when he gave his permission to enter it was Cairson, his head servant, who appeared.
"Master, there's a young man here to see you," Cairson reported with something of a bow. "He offers his apologies for disturbing you, and said to assure you that if seeing him now is inconvenient he'll certainly come back at a time of your choosing."
"Good manners are rare enough these days that they deserve to be rewarded," Damon commented after thinking for a brief moment. "Tell the young man that I'll be with him in just a minute or two."
Cairson bowed again and left the room, giving Damon a chance to finish his conversation with Liegro.
"After I see what my visitor wants, I'll do the search for my future wife," Damon said to the owl. "If no one suitable turns up, I'll create an empty body and animate it whenever it becomes necessary."
"But then the king might start to wonder where the woman comes from," Liegro pointed out. "You'll be best off finding an actual woman, preferably from a family in this kingdom. Avoiding problems to begin with is a better idea than having to handle those problems after they come up."
"Yes, you're right," Damon conceded, only needing a second to see the sense in what Liegro said. "Finding is a better idea than creating, even if it takes a while to locate the woman. I appreciate your patience with me, Liegro. By the time I get back I should be thinking again instead of emoting."
"The threat of invasion is enough to make anyone emotional, even a sorcerer," Liegro assured him. "Take your time with your visitor, and we'll speak again once he's gone."
Damon nodded and turned to the door, leaving Liegro behind as he headed for the entry hall. The entity wearing owl form had been with Damon from the time Damon first discovered that he had the talent, which had been at puberty. If Liegro ever decided to leave, Damon would be more upset than he was when his father insisted he leave the house he'd been born in. Ordinary people did not like having sorcerers around, a lesson Damon had learned at an unfortunately early age. If not for Liegro, he might not even have found the elder sorcerer who trained him.
But he had found his teacher, and Damon had proven to be a very fast learner. Liegro had supported him through those years, and had even helped him find a realm that was ruled by a king who knew the value of a sorcerer. He still had no idea why Liegro stayed with him, but if the being in owl form ever left Damon knew his life would become dark and empty.
Stepping out into the entrance hall let Damon put aside his thoughts as he got his first look at the visitor. Cairson had been right to use the term "young man," a fact easily seen even with the young man in question mostly turned away.
Although not quite Damon's size the boy was tall, with dark hair carefully combed. He held a hat in his hands, the polite thing to do when inside someone's home, and his clothing looked to be better and more expensive than what people in the area usually wore. He also looked nervous, but not impatient as someone else from the upper class might have been. Well, no sense in just standing and staring.
"Good afternoon," Damon said, immediately drawing the boy's attention. "I'm Damon Am'Troff, and I understand you asked to see me."
"Yes, Master, I did," the boy answered, drawing himself up despite his nervousness as he moved closer to Damon. "I asked the king's permission before coming here, and now I'd like to ask your permission as well. I have a … problem I'd appreciate your help with, but if I've come at a bad time I'll be glad to return when it's more convenient."
"Why don't you tell me what the problem is, and then I'll know if I can help you," Damon said, gesturing the boy toward the nearby sitting room meant for guests. "To begin with, who are you?"
"How foolish of me not to have given a name," the boy said, clearly upset with himself rather than embarrassed. "I'm Gregory Lissand, Baron Ffolks. I'm not yet used to being baron, so I tend to … forget."
"I see," Damon said, not really seeing at all as he offered his guest a chair. "Would you care for some refreshment? Coffee, tea, a glass of wine?"
"Thank you, no, but please have something yourself if you care to," the boy answered as he sat down. "I'd rather get straight to my problem."
"Then by all means let's discuss your problem," Damon agreed as he took a chair opposite the boy's. "Refreshment can wait until later."
"Thank you," the boy repeated, and then he sighed. "I wasn't supposed to take my father's place, not when my older brother was perfectly suited to the position of heir. Then my father and brother went out hunting with some of my father's friends, that terrible storm came up, and my father and brother were only two of those who didn't survive."
"I remember the storm you mean, and you have my condolences," Damon remarked. "Two weather witches posted warnings about that storm and spread the word all over the kingdom. I take it your father and his friends somehow missed hearing?"
"No, they ignored the warning," the boy said with another sigh. "My father and his friends tended to … dismiss whatever they didn't care to hear, expecting that events would adapt themselves to their desires as things usually did. This time the weather ignored them, storming just as it pleased until it had taken eight lives."
Damon didn't say so, but in his opinion the fools had gotten exactly what they deserved. When a title you've been given - or simply inherited - makes you believe that the world will always conform to your desires, that title becomes more of a liability than a blessing.
"Which left only me to inherit my father's title," the boy went on, this time the sigh behind his words. "I've had no real training in maintaining the estates and such, so most of my time now is being taken up learning what I need to know. One aspect of my duty is to provide an heir of my own, and that's where the major part of my problem lies."
Damon nodded his understanding, making sure his expression stayed completely neutral. The boy was presentable enough to attract a woman, but something in his general attitude said he hadn't even tried.
"I've never been … comfortable in the presence of women," the boy confessed, as if Damon had to be told that. The new baron had large, dark eyes that made him look more than a little vulnerable. "My brother was about to be betrothed to Lady Alicia Kendall, but the betrothal was never announced. My mother wants me to take my brother's place with Lady Alicia, but I just can't do it."
"Was it a love match?" Damon asked, familiar with the point. "Lady Alicia was in love with your brother, and now that he's dead she would consider it betrayal to marry you in his place?"
"No, there was nothing like love involved," the boy responded, still looking almost solemn. "Lady Alicia is … shy, and quiet, and instantly does just as she's told. My father and brother considered those excellent qualities in a woman, but I'm afraid I don't agree. I would prefer a woman of intelligence and compassion, someone who will love and protect the children she bears. Cold, distant, and uncaring are other qualities I don't find attractive."
Damon hesitated a moment, but what he had to say was a point that needed to be made.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but your mother wants you to marry Lady Alicia so that she, your mother, can continue to run the household," Damon put flatly. "Being nothing more than the dowager baroness doesn't suit her tastes."
"Unfortunately you're entirely correct," the boy said, another sigh accompanying the words. "Will that make it impossible for you to help me find a proper wife?"
"No, that just adds another dimension to the search," Damon said, pleased that he'd guessed the reason for the new baron's visit. "You need a woman who will not only fit your life nicely, but who will also be able to fend off your mother. Shall we get started with the search?"
"What must I do?" the boy asked as he stood up from the chair. It was perfectly obvious that he was prepared to do just about anything asked of him, so Damon smiled and shook his head as he also stood.
"Nothing beyond being able to pay my fee," Damon assured him gently. "I'm required to charge a fee because I've given my word to the king not to produce gold of my own. Having too much gold floating around would do harm to the realm's economy."
"Yes, I understand that point extremely well," the boy answered with his own smile as he reached into his coat. "I had the explanation directly from the king, so I've come prepared. Your fee, Master."
Damon accepted the pouch handed to him, a pouch heavy enough to contain more than the required number of gold pieces. But rather than check, Damon simply led his guest out of the visitor's room and toward his study. To count the gold would suggest the new baron couldn't be trusted to do the thing right, and chances were the boy had enough of that kind of attitude from his mother.
When they entered Damon's study, Liegro shifted on his perch but didn't say anything - which was just as well. A sorcerer having an owl in his study wasn't terribly remarkable, but an owl who spoke like a man was something else entirely. Damon led the boy to the right of the door, where the large crystal bowl of water stood, then gestured to one of the chairs near the bowl.
"If you'll sit there we can begin the search," Damon said, taking the other chair himself after putting aside the pouch of gold. "The spell isn't very involved, but it may take a while to locate the proper woman. If we don't get results in a few minutes, we can have that drink we discussed a little while ago."
The boy simply nodded as he sat carefully in the chair, his gaze resting nervously on the crystal bowl. Damon knew that most people would be nervous when magic was about to be done, so he didn't waste any time speaking the scrying spell. When the last syllable of the spell was pronounced the water rippled as it was supposed to, but then the ripples began to clear away.
"Well, it looks like we won't have to stop for refreshments after all," Damon said, watching as the ripples disappeared to show a clear picture. "Do you see either of these ladies more clearly than the other?"
"Yes, the younger lady," the boy answered immediately, his nervousness gone. "And she's quite attractive, isn't she?"
Since the question hadn't really been put to him, Damon didn't answer. The younger girl looked to be about seventeen, only a pair of years younger than the boy himself, and she really was pretty. Black hair and dancing green eyes accompanied a round and friendly face, the rest of her doing nicely filling out her blouse and what looked to be a riding skirt. At the moment she was speaking to her companion, a girl two or three years older who looked very much like her. In all likelihood the two were sisters…
But none of that told Damon why it was the older girl who appeared clearer to him. By rights both figures should have looked the same to him, since it hadn't been his own search that he'd -
Damon quickly turned his head in Liegro's direction, and the owl deliberately nodded once. That nod confirmed Damon's suspicion that somehow his own search had become part of the baron's, possibly because the two females were sisters. He'd found Baron Gregory's future wife, and it looked like he'd also found his own.
"Who is she?" the boy finally asked without turning away from the crystal bowl. "Can we find out, or do I need to go looking for her?"
"We can find out," Damon answered before speaking a quick spell of direction. "Asking is always better than charging around trying to find that needle in a haystack I'm sure you've heard about."
The picture they looked at rippled again, and then a mild voice, neither male nor female, spoke from the air above the bowl.
"Lady Gayle Landring and Lady Tippi Landring, daughters of Viscount Robert of Bersten," the voice intoned. "The elder is Gay, the younger Tippi."
"I've never actually met Viscount Robert, but I saw him once when my father took me and my brother to court," the boy commented thoughtfully. "My father and his friends ignored the man very pointedly, as though they didn't like or approve of him, but the viscount didn't seem to care. He ignored my father in the same way as he associated with his own friends, and I remember wishing I could be part of their group instead of my father's."
"Because Viscount Robert is a friendly and open man, and he and his associates prefer laughing at really amusing stories to stabbing people in the back," Damon said with a nod of understanding. "I noticed that myself about the man, but I've also never actually met him. I think we'll need the king's help to get you an interview with Viscount Robert."
"To keep him from rejecting my suit because he thinks I'm like my father," the boy said, a glance showing Damon the mirthless smile the new baron now wore. "I'll probably run into that attitude a lot, so I'd better get started with changing people's minds. Will the king refuse to see me twice in one day, do you think?"
"Not if you tell him you need help again," Damon replied with a better smile. "King Sythen sincerely enjoys helping people, but he usually has to be cautious about indulging the pleasure. A few members of his nobility are always poised to take advantage of the better side of his nature, but I'm sure he knows by now that you're not one like that. And, if you don't mind, tell the king that I'd like to go with you for the interview."
"You'd be willing to do that?" the boy exclaimed, a sudden joy in his dark eyes. "I've been bracing myself to face the viscount alone, but if you're there…"
"If I'm there he can concentrate his suspicion in my direction, while I do my best to make him know we can both be trusted." Damon finished the sentence when the boy didn't, then he made up his mind to be completely honest. "And I think you ought to know that I won't be going along just to lend you moral support, which you might want but don't actually need. I certainly didn't expect to find Lady Gayle Landring as attractive as you find her sister, but somehow it happened anyway."
"You mean to court Tippi's sister?" the boy asked, and it wasn't possible to miss the delight in his eyes. "If we're successful we'll be brothers-in-law, Master, and I'd really enjoy that. You're a much better person than my father could have ever hoped to be."
"It's nice of you to say that, Baron Gregory," Damon answered, feeling the sincerity in his smile. "And since we hopefully will be brothers-in-law, please call me Damon."
"If you'll do me the honor of calling me Gregory without the title," the boy responded as he stood up. "My father never let anyone address him without using his title, and I'm trying to be as unlike him as humanly possible. I'll come back to let you know what the king says and what he means to arrange."
Damon rose and accepted the hand the boy - Gregory - offered, thanking him for his thoughtfulness as he began to show the new Baron out of the study. He saw Gregory to the front door, then went back to his study to see Liegro moving around on his perch.
"He's a fine young man, Damon, and he really is happy to think the two of you will be related," Liegro said at once. "He was very nervous when he first arrived, but it didn't take long for the nervousness to disappear. You remind him strongly of the tutor he had most of his life, a man who taught him what his father wasn't able to."
"A tutor," Damon echoed as he went to a chair and sat. "I wondered how Gregory managed to turn out so well with the parents he had. Since Gregory wasn't the heir, his father undoubtedly paid no attention to what his younger son was being taught. So… can you explain how the search for Gregory's wife turned out to be a search for my own?"
"I think we can chalk that up to your inner mind," Liegro answered, clear amusement behind the words. "You'd been thinking about doing a search of your own, and inner thoughts always color our outer ones. You were taught that, I believe."
"Yes, I was," Damon agreed with a sigh. "It's the reason those who do magic are first taught how to discipline their thoughts. I was sloppy, but this time I got away with it. Next time will probably be another story, so I'd better not let it happen again. Most especially since the next time is now. I haven't checked the winds today to see what the future might be blowing us."
"Then you'd best get to it," Liegro commented, that amusement, for some reason, still with him. "The king pays you quite a lot of gold to keep his kingdom safe, and if you fall down on the job he'll probably withdraw the introduction to Viscount Robert he means to provide."
Damon did no more than glance at Liegro before preparing the spell of Seeing. In some way the pseudo owl most often knew things even Damon didn't, but questioning Liegro on the point never produced an answer that could be called useable. Damon had long since given up trying, so he spoke the spell of Seeing and just sat back.
The spell produced a wide cloud of mist, and the mist roiled and rolled for a couple of moments before it began to clear. The picture formed in the mist was of a small army group being gathered somewhere, but it wasn't possible to tell where the somewhere was. That picture dissolved quickly, only to be replaced with one of Baron Gregory, a look of deep distress on his face. Then that picture also faded, leaving nothing but the clouds of mist to roil emptily.
"Two events the spell considered major, but no real detail about either one of them," Damon mused, using one hand to rub at his face. "That means neither event is about to happen at once, but I really don't understand about that army group. None of our neighboring kingdoms have sorcerers of their own, but they know well enough that I'm here. How can one of them be considering invading us?"
"Either they expect to be protected from your arts, or they expect you not to be here," Liegro offered, no longer sounding amused. "Whichever it turns out to be, the situation certainly won't be pleasant."
"That's an understatement," Damon murmured before speaking the spell a second time. Nothing but the same pictures were shown to him again, so he banished the mist and sat back to think. His mind went so deep that he became unaware of the passage of time, finding out how long he'd been thinking only when Cairson came to say that Gregory had returned to say they'd be expected at Viscount Robert's home for dinner tomorrow night.
Damon sent out his agreement to be ready, then he went back to his thoughts. He tried to think about that army group again, but suddenly it was the lady he'd seen who filled his mind with conjecture. She looked pleasant enough, but what was she really like? He'd have to learn all he could about her quickly; after all, once he moved her into his house he meant to ignore her except at mealtimes. Even if she didn't like that idea, she'd just have to find a way to accept it. There would be nothing else she could do about the matter.
Chapter Two
Gay Landring followed her sister Tippi into the house after returning from their afternoon's ride. She and Tippi tried to ride every day, staying in only when the weather was bad. Today was on the cool side, but other than that the ride had been very pleasant.
"I'm thinking about getting myself a pretty bridle I saw the other day," Tippi said as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, where their apartments were. "I haven't yet decided whether I really want to spend the silver on it, but I'm considering getting the thing."
"Well, you do still have silver left over from last month's income," Gay pointed out. "If we didn't have our monthly stipend from the fund Grandmother set up for us we'd have to depend on Father's generosity, but this way we don't. It's been a long time since you spent every copper as soon as the money was in your hand, so if you want the bridle go ahead and buy it."
"I would, except for the fact that I need to have new gowns made," Tippi answered with a rueful smile, the two of them moving to the left at the head of the stairs. "There's nothing really wrong with my old gowns, except for the fact that too many of them don't fit any longer. I've grown just enough in all directions that trying to refit the old gowns would be a waste of time, so it's either have new gowns made or walk around naked. If I admit I've been considering the naked option, does that make me a miser?"
"It makes you someone with a bad memory," Gay answered with a laugh. "Father is still responsible for our ordinary expenses, so just tell Mother what the problem is. She'll pass along the word to Father, and then you'll be able to have the gowns made without spending your own money on them."
"You know, I did forget that," Tippi said, her smile losing its ruefulness. "I've gotten so used to paying for things myself. Gay, you're almost at the age where you'll get your part of the inheritance at once instead of in small bits. Do you mean to stay here, or will you find a house of your own?"
"I'll probably get my own house," Gay told her, a subject she'd made up her mind about. "Father still hopes to see me married off, and as long as I stay here he'll keep hoping and trying. Once I'm on my own the decision will become mine, and then Father will be able to relax and enjoy life."
"While he keeps trying to marry me off," Tippi grumbled, slowing as they reached the doors leading into Gay's apartment. "If things get too tense around here, will you take in your poor, downtrodden sister once you have your house? I'll pay my own way as far as I'm able."
"You'll always be welcome in any house of mine," Gay assured her, putting her hand to Tippi's shoulder as she gave her sister a smile. "You'll have to ignore any male company I may have, but men who aren't husbands can be ignored."
"Maybe by then I'll be ready to borrow some of your company," Tippi said with a laugh. "I took your advice to wait when I found out you were indulging and I'm not sorry I did, but I have no interest at all in becoming a usual 'old maid.' If men can have affairs, women should be entitled to the same."
"I'd like to see men have affairs without the help of women," Gay countered, her grin wide. "As long as we protect ourselves from unpleasant consequences, we can dally with the best of them. Getting married in order to have sex is entirely unnecessary."
"I wonder why we can see that truth when no one else seems able to," Tippi commented, her head to one side. "Everyone else in the whole world seems to think that it's impossible to do without marriage, and I don't understand why that is."
"It's a matter of control," Gay explained, having considered the point herself. "Men want to stay in control of the world, and the only way they can do that is to chain women up and make them completely dependent. The idea of First-month is a sop to women, telling them they can leave the man after First-month is over, but how many women have the nerve to do that? They may be protected against becoming pregnant during First-month, but how do you protect them against being bullied and coerced?"
"You can't, not when most women are raised to obey their fathers," Tippi agreed. "Being used to obeying one man leaves you vulnerable to all men after that, even though you come back to your father's house alone after First-month is over."
"And the last thing women are taught is to be independent," Gay added, returning to the point she'd started to make. "When a father can marry his daughter to anyone he pleases and a husband can do anything he likes to his wife, that keeps the men in control. Most men don't exercise their control as gently as Father does, something you can see if you just look around."
"I have looked, and the sight made me sick," Tippi agreed with a sigh. "If the perfect man came along I might agree to marry, but the man really would have to be perfect and I don't think that's possible. A man being perfect, I mean."
Gay laughed again and started to say something else, but the doors to her sitting room opened and her maid, Francie, stepped out.
"Ladies, I have a message from your mother," Francie said, amusement lurking in her dark eyes. "Your lady mother said to tell you there will be guests for dinner, but you don't need to polish and preen. The men are just associates of some kind of your father, and inviting them wasn't really his idea."
"How disappointing," Tippi said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I was so looking forward to dressing to the teeth in the hopes of attracting the attention of some mighty male. But I'm strong, so I ought to be over the disappointment in a week or two. I'll see you later, Gay."
Gay nodded while Francie giggled and Tippi walked away toward her own apartment, then Gay led Francie back inside. If their father had overheard Tippi's comments he would have been upset, having no idea why his daughters felt the way they did in spite of his being a really wonderful person.
My father talks about duty and the responsibilities of those who are considered noble, but he's only able to see things from the male point of view, Gay thought as she headed for her bathing room. What duty am I supposed to have toward people who consider me something other than a human being without rights of my own? How can people expect to get the respect they refuse to give?
She'd never found a satisfactory answer to that particular question, and chances were good that she never would. She thought about how strange people were while Francie helped her undress, then she got into the bath that was ready and waiting for her. Francie always had a bath waiting after Gay came back from a ride, and once Gay settled into the deliciously hot water she thought about something Tippi had said.
The perfect man. Gay had her own ideas about what would make a man perfect, and she'd even put those ideas into the stories she liked to write. Some of those stories were novel length and she'd toyed with the idea of having them published, but doing that wasn't practical as long as she lived with her parents. Once she had a house of her own, though, she'd also have the gold necessary for getting the books into print. Hopefully the cost would be recovered when the books sold, but even if the money was never recouped she just might do the publishing anyway.
Gay soaked in the bath until the water began to cool, then she washed and got out. It was too early to dress for dinner, so she put on a wrap, got a cup of coffee, then went to her desk to do some writing. At times the writing made her unwilling to leave it until she was too tired to think any longer, but she made a habit of walking away to go riding every afternoon. The exercise did her a world of good, and when she came back to the writing she was more eager to get the story told than ever.
As usual, she became so involved that she needed Francie to tell her that it was time to dress for dinner. She finished the paragraph she'd started before putting aside her pen, then went to choose what to wear. Company meant a formal dinner, but there was no sense in going overboard when the guests weren't even good enough for her mother to send grooming tips. Gay's mother refused to give up hope that her daughters would marry as happily as she had, and neither of her daughters had the heart to tell the mother they loved that she was hoping for something that would never happen.
She finally settled on her yellow gown with touches of gold, a fairly modest covering that still came close to being elegant. The gown had matching slippers, of course, and Gay put them on even though she detested slippers. Her riding boots could be worn both outside and in the house, but slippers were only good for indoors. Being limited like that was more than annoying, but she put the thought aside, let Francie brush her hair, then she left the apartment.
When Gay walked into the hall she saw that Tippi had almost reached her door, so she waited the necessary moment and then the two of them went downstairs. Tippi wore a gown of red, pink, and white, an aggressive combination that had put a smile of satisfaction on Tippi's face. A woman who wore a gown like that would obviously not be an easy target for men wanting sweet and gentle women, precisely the message Tippi usually tried to send. If Father's guests got any ideas, Gay knew the ideas wouldn't be ones she and Tippi had to argue.
Their parents were already in the small mixing room near the small dining room, and Gay looked around when she and Tippi walked through the door. Their mother was busy with one of the servants, obviously giving orders that hadn't, for some reason, been given earlier. The guests who weren't very important stood talking to Gay's father, but her father looked more pleased than imposed upon. Gay couldn't figure out why that was, but the question was one to be considered later. Right now there were guests to examine and guess about.
Both men were tall, and the shorter also looked to be the younger. He had dark hair and eyes and seemed to have a fairly good body, not to mention a very handsome face. He was also well-dressed, a bit better dressed than the second man.
The second man wasn't badly dressed, just a bit more casually than the first. This larger man had blond hair and gray eyes, broad shoulders and a trim body, seemed five or six years older than the first, and wasn't what was usually considered handsome. His face was craggy and hard-looking, but Gay, like a number of women, found that more appealing than a pretty face. And the look in his gray eyes was steady and assured, something else Gay liked in a man.
As she and Tippi moved toward the three men who were now giving the newcomers all their attention, Gay made up her mind. If she ran across the bigger man elsewhere at another time, it might be pleasant to arrange a third, less formal, meeting.
* * *
Damon was dressed and ready when Gregory's carriage pulled up outside his house, so he simply walked out and climbed into the carriage. Waiting until he was called would have been foolish, and Gregory smiled at him as he settled onto the seat.
"I'd venture to say you're as eager to get there as I am," Gregory commented as the carriage headed back toward the road. "And I'd also venture to say that we're lucky the viscount and his family are now in their town house. If they were out on their country estate, we'd have a long drive ahead of us."
"I'm not very fond of long drives," Damon answered, deciding not to correct the boy. Damon wasn't eager to see a woman he meant to ignore after he married her, he just wanted the distraction of this nonsense finished and behind him. "Have you thought about what you'll say to the girl to draw her interest?"
"I'll have to take that conversation in its turn," the boy responded with a sigh. "The first one we have to speak to is Viscount Robert, and if I don't say the right things to him then I don't have to worry about speaking to his daughter. Nothing I say to her will make the least difference."
The truth of that summation was inarguable, so Damon decided against trying to calm Gregory's agitation. They both had to find the right thing to say to the viscount, otherwise they could forget about getting anywhere near the girls. Damon had intended to deflect some of the viscount's hard feelings against Gregory's father onto himself, but now he wondered just how successful he would be. Most fathers had no trouble rejecting two suitors at a time, and Damon didn't expect Viscount Robert to be any different.
The ride to the viscount's town house turned out to be shorter than Damon liked. The house wasn't precisely in town, just close by as the rest of the small estates of the realm's nobility were. The carriage was already moving up the drive when Damon realized he hadn't yet come up with a good line of argument to give the viscount. Speaking the truth would have gotten Damon thrown out even before Gregory was sent on his way.
"Looks like we're here," Gregory commented when the carriage came to a stop. "I'm feeling the urge to just sit out here for a time, but that's foolish. Waiting won't do a thing to make the situation better, so it's smarter to just get right to it."
With that the boy moved past Damon to the door, getting out of the carriage first. Damon felt the urge to sigh, but instead followed Gregory to the ground and to the front door. Getting right to the problem was a better idea, but for once Damon wouldn't have minded putting off the confrontation for a while. Using magic to solve problems got to be habit-forming, and when a problem came by that couldn't be solved with the use of magic…
A servant opened the door and ushered them inside, then led the way to the room where the viscount awaited them. The man stood up from behind a desk when they entered, his expression not in the least friendly, but he waited until the servant walked back out and closed the door before speaking.
"His Majesty asked that I extend a dinner invitation to two men I don't know, so I've done that," Viscount Robert stated coldly. He was a man in his middle years and in fairly good shape, his dark hair showing nothing in the way of gray, his light eyes as cold as his tone. "Now I wonder if you would be so good as to tell me why I was asked to do the king this favor."
"Viscount Robert, the fault is all mine," Gregory said at once while Damon still considered how best to begin. "You're a fair man, I know, but fair doesn't mean easily taken advantage of, a distinction my father never tried to make. What I'm here to do is try to make you believe that I'm not my father."
"Your father," the viscount echoed with a frown, now staring at Gregory's face. "I thought you looked familiar, but I can't quite remember from where. Have we met?"
"I was never allowed that pleasure," Gregory said, his smile rueful. "Meeting you wasn't supposed to be a pleasure for anyone in my family, and that included those you call friends. Needless to say, there are more than a few men I now have to make amends with."
"You're Lissand's younger boy," the viscount said, not really asking a question. "My condolences on the loss of your father and older brother."
"Thank you, my lord," Gregory said, adding a small bow. "Your graciousness is not unexpected despite the way my father - and brother - always acted toward you. I was never of any importance or concern to my father, a happy fact rather than a sad one. If he'd ever noticed me, he would have seen my rather fervent wish that I'd been born into another family."
"Now I remember," the viscount said, much of the hostility gone from his face and manner. "The time or two your father dragged you to court along with your brother… You always seemed determined to distance yourself from them and your father's cronies, but you weren't permitted to go too far. I had the impression your father disapproved of you which, I'm sorry to say, is the best recommendation you could have. Please sit down, both of you."
The man gestured to the two chairs standing in front of his desk, very comfortable-looking armchairs. Damon took the seat to the right while Gregory chose the one on the left, reflecting that his staying silent had done wonders for their cause. Gregory had struck exactly the right note, and Damon wasn't fool enough to think he could do more.
"That's better," the viscount said once all three of them were seated. "I now understand why His Majesty interceded for you, young man. Your father wasn't quite as supportive of the throne as a member of the nobility is supposed to be, and your older brother was a younger version of his father. You, on the other hand… You asked the king for his help, I take it, something your father never would have done."
"Better to ask for help than flounder on your own, is the way I see it," Gregory returned with a smile. "I hope you don't disagree."
"On the contrary, I consider the attitude admirable," Viscount Robert assured Gregory with his own smile. "A man who's willing to ask for help is a man who's also willing to learn. Time enough to think about standing on your own once you know what you're about."