ll of it: betrayal and memory mixed with yearning, as in the amber-colored wine the Triad were said to drink, too potent for mortals to taste.
"Are you truly serious about that posting in Asoli?" Rhamanus's voice was soft. Brandin had not gone to the throne but was making a relaxed circuit of the room, more evidence of his benign mood. Rhun, with his lopsided smile, shambled in his wake.
"I confess I had never even given it a thought," the former Tribute captain added.
With an effort Dianora forced her thoughts back to him. For a second she had forgotten her own query. Brandin did that to her. It was not a good thing, she thought. For many reasons it was not a good thing.
She turned again to Rhamanus. "I'm quite serious," she said. "But I'm not sure if you would want the position, even if it were possible. You have more status where you are, and this is Chiara, after all. Asoli can offer you some chance at wealth, but I think you have an idea what would be involved. What matters to you, Rhamanus?"
It was more bluntly put than courtesy would have deemed appropriate, especially with a friend.
He blinked, and fingered one of his chains of office.
"Is that what it comes down to?" he asked hesitantly. "Is that how you see it? Can a man not perhaps be moved by the prospect of a new challenge, or even, at the risk of sounding foolish, by the desire to serve his King?"
Her turn to blink.
"You shame me," she said simply, after a moment. "Rhamanus, I swear you do." She stilled his quick protests with a hand on his sleeve. "Sometimes I wonder what is happening to me. All the intriguing that goes on here."
She heard footsteps approaching and what she said next was spoken as much to the man behind as to the one in front of her. "Sometimes I wonder what this court is doing to me."
"Should I be wondering as well?" asked Brandin of Ygrath.
Smiling, he joined them. He did not touch her. He very seldom touched the saishan women in public, and this was an Ygrathen reception. They knew his rules. Their lives were shaped by his rules.
"My lord," she said, turning and sketching her salutation. She kept her voice airily provocative. "Do you find me more cynical than I was when this terrible man brought me here?"
Brandin's amused glance went from her to Rhamanus. It was not as if he'd needed the reminder of which Tribute captain had brought him Dianora. She knew that, and he knew she did. It was all part of their verbal dance. His intelligence stretched her to her limits, and then changed what those limits were. She noticed, perhaps because the subject had come up with Rhamanus, that there was as much grey in his beard now as black.
He nodded judiciously, simulating a deep concern over the question. "I would have to say so, yes. You have grown cynically manipulative in almost exactly the same proportion as the terrible man has grown fat."
"So much?" Dianora protested. "My lord, he is very fat!"
Both men chuckled. Rhamanus patted his belly affectionately.☆本☆作☆品☆由☆☆網☆提☆供☆下☆載☆與☆在☆線☆閱☆讀☆
"This," he said, "is what happens when you feed a man cold salt meat for twenty years at sea and then expose him to the delights of the King's city."
"Well then," said Brandin, "we may have to send you away somewhere until you are sleek as a seal again."
"My lord," said Rhamanus instantly, "I am yours to command in all things." His expression was sober and intense.
Brandin registered that and his tone changed as well. "I know that," he murmured. "I would that I had more of you at court. At both of my courts. Portly or sleek, Rhamanus, I am not unmindful of you, whatever our Dianora may think."
Very high praise, a promise of sorts, and a dismissal for the moment. Bright-eyed, Rhamanus bowed formally and withdrew. Brandin walked a couple of paces away, Rhun shuffling along beside him. Dianora followed, as she was expected to. Once out of earshot of anyone but the Fool, Brandin turned to her. He was, she was sorry to see, suppressing a smile.
"What did you do? Offer him north Asol