The lack of an apron was a bad sign, thought Clariel, because if Jaciel was not working, then she might take an interest in her daughter.
This proved to be the case. Jaciel stopped in mid-progress towards the men who were unloading the charcoal and changed direction, coming straight at Clariel. As she approached, Roban stood even more stiffly to attention, and Valannie quickly put the scarf over Clariel’s hair, pulled it down to cover the Charter mark on her forehead, and knotted the ends under her chin.
‘Clariel. You have come down.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘No more tantrums then?’
‘I wasn’t having …’ Clariel started hotly, before biting her lip. She never could seem to have a normal conversation with her mother. ‘That is, I am quite reconciled to my fate, thank you.’
‘Your fate?’ asked Jaciel. ‘Rather portentous, don’t you think? In any case, I am pleased. I see you are about to go and purchase your new clothes. Make sure you pay attention to Valannie.’
She turned her imperious gaze to the maid and continued. ‘Please see that Clariel has everything appropriate that she will need for the Academy and the house, Valannie. Do not let her pursue any … sartorial whimsy.’
‘Yes, milady,’ said Valannie, with a curtsy.
‘And you are Roban?’ Jaciel asked the guard. ‘The senior of the detail assigned by the Guild?’
‘Yes, milady!’ snapped Roban.
‘Formerly of the Royal Guard, I see,’ said Jaciel. How she knew that, Clariel couldn’t tell.
‘Yes, milady.’
‘Then I must presume you to be adequately trained,’ continued Jaciel. She turned back to Clariel.
‘In addition to your clothes, Clariel, you will need to purchase a small gift for the King. We have an audience in three days.’
For the first time, Clariel saw emotion on Roban’s face, a flicker of surprise at this announcement. Valannie actually looked stunned, her eyes widening for a moment before she managed to school her face into its normal, attentive guise.
‘We do?’ asked Clariel. She didn’t know much about King Orrikan, save that he was very old, and the gossips in Estwael said he had become a recluse since the death of his wife and the disappearance of his granddaughter and heir, Princess Tathiel. According to common wisdom, he saw no one and now played almost no part in the governance of the Kingdom. Which, Clariel had heard said, was an improvement from when he had taken an occasional interest. ‘Why do I have to buy him something?’
‘Because you are his youngest kinswoman,’ said Jaciel. ‘The kin-gift is a tradition, when you first call upon him.’
‘But what can I get for the King?’ asked Clariel. ‘I mean he can have whatever he wants, can’t he?’
‘Something small and personal, as is befitting for a gift from a young lady,’ replied Jaciel. ‘I’m sure Valannie will advise you.’
Valannie looked surprised. Clearly some things were outside her otherwise vast sphere of competence.
‘Uh, milady, I am well versed in the fashions of the Governor’s court, but the King, I really don’t, I mean he’s hardly even been seen these last five years –’
‘I’m sure you will find something,’ pronounced Jaciel. ‘Now, where is that Allin?’
‘Here, milady!’ called one of the senior apprentices, quickly moving to the front of the small crowd that had been waiting a few paces behind Jaciel.
‘I am going to look at your design for a long-handled spoon now, Allin,’ said Jaciel. ‘Come to my study. Rowain, Errilee, you will come too. Bring your workbooks and drawings. The rest of you, be about your duties.’
There was a sudden whirl of activity, with apprentices and workers moving quickly back to the huge, arched door of the workshop on the other side of the courtyard, and Jaciel and her chosen apprentices going to the smaller of the two doors on the house side that led directly to the chambers that Jaciel and Harven had taken for their private offices. Jaciel’s, of course, was by far the larger room.
‘Well, I suppose I had better go and find a gift for the King,’ said Clariel. ‘Where do you suggest we start, Valannie?’
Valannie frowned.
‘I really don’t know, milady,’ she said. ‘As I said to your mother, if it was a gift for the Governor, or one of the councillors, that would be a different matter. Who knows what small thing the King would like?’
‘He likes fish,’ said Roban. ‘Or he used to like fish.’
‘To eat?’ asked Clariel. She liked fish too, particularly trout she had tickled herself from one of the creeks that ran into the Estwael. Bled immediately, filleted and pan-fried with wild garlic and shallots on a campfire, fresh-caught trout was one of her favourite meals. Yet another thing she would miss now they lived in Belisaere.
‘No, bright fish from far away,’ said Roban. ‘Alive. He has them swim inside huge glass orbs. He likes … or he liked … to watch them.’
‘And you saw this when you were a Royal Guard?’ asked Clariel.
‘Yes, milady.’
‘Why did you leave?’ asked Clariel, before immediately regretting the question, as Roban’s neck tilted back and he once again looked up and past her shoulder at his invisible officer. Perhaps he was dismissed, she thought, for drunkenness or some dereliction of duty. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, that is a … a silly question.’
‘I didn’t leave as such, milady,’ said Roban slowly. ‘When the guilds took over our duties in the city and beyond, most of the Guard was disbanded, there only being a few score needed for the Palace alone. Quite a few of us joined up with one or other of the guild companies.’
‘I didn’t know about that,’ said Clariel. ‘I suppose I don’t know much about the city and … everything. Uh, why did the guilds take over from the Guard?’
Neither Roban nor Valannie answered, but Clariel detected a kind of tension within them, as if both would like to speak. But Roban continued to stare at the sky, and Valannie reached up to make a quick and barely noticeable adjustment to Clariel’s scarf.
‘Well, it’s useful to know about the fish, thank you,’ said Clariel, into the silence. ‘Do you know where I could buy one … or some … of these bright fish?’
‘The fish market does sell live fish and unusual catches,’ said Valannie, wrinkling her nose. She looked at Roban. ‘Is it safe today?’
Roban nodded.
‘Safe today?’ asked Clariel. ‘What do you mean? And no one has told me why I need a guard in the first place.’
‘There is some unrest in the city, milady,’ said Roban. ‘Disaffected workers and the like. There have been some … minor disturbances … and the fish market is close to the Flat, where the day workers live.’
‘Day workers?’ asked Clariel.
‘Those who do not belong to Guilds and are hired – or not – by the day,’ explained Roban patiently.
‘Nothing to do with us and nothing to worry about,’ added Valannie brightly. ‘The guilds look after their own. Oh dear, that scarf still isn’t quite right. Please, allow me, milady.’
Clariel reluctantly lowered her head and let Valannie retie the scarf. It was clear to her there was a lot going on in the city that she didn’t know about, and probably needed to know, but neither Valannie nor Roban were going to tell her about it.
Not that she intended staying in Belisaere for a moment longer than was necessary. Not once she had worked out how to get back to Estwael, and how she might be able to live with only limited support from her parents. Or perhaps no support at all, for she was reluctantly coming to the conclusion that they would never countenance her ambitions. She would have to devise her own plans for the future.