Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 08 by A Tapestry of Lions (v1.0) Page A

expression softened as she
glanced at the taller boy. "You are to be commended for your
diligence."
                Urchin's face reddened. "Kellin
helps me."
                "But he learns on his
own," Kellin put in quickly. "I only point out a few things here and
there. He does most of it himself."
                "I know." Aileen of Homana
had lost none of her vividness with the passage of time, though her color had
dimmed a trifle from the brilliant red of youth to a rusted silver. But she was
still Erinnish. born of an island kingdom, and she still boasted the tenacity
and fiery outspokenness that had nearly caused a political incident between her
realm and Homana when she had professed to love Niall's third-born son in place
of the prince she was meant to wed; Conn himself had prevented it by taking up
his tahlmorra in Atvia, and Aileen had married Brennan after all. "He's as
quick at his learning as he is his duties at the spit; 'twill not be long
before he outgrows the kitchens and enters into more personal service."
                "With me?" Kellin blurted.
                Aileen laughed. "In time,
Kellin—first he must learn the household. Then we'll be seeing if he's ready to
become the Prince of Homana's personal squire."
                "But he has to be," Kellin
insisted- "I want to make him commander of the Mujharan Guard."
                "Oh?" Rusty brows lifted.
"I think Harlech might be wishing to keep his post."
                "Oh, not yet." Kellin
waved a hand. "When he is older- When I am Mujhar."
                Aileen's mouth crimped only
slightly. "Indeed."
                She looked at Urchin. "Do you
feel yourself fit for such duty?"
                "Not yet," Urchin replied
promptly. "But—I will be." He cast a sidelong glance at Kellin.
"I mean to guard him against the Lion."
                Aileen's smiled faded. Her glance
went beyond the boys to the man in the doorway.
                "The Lion," echoed the
Mujhar; both boys swung at once. "The Lion is no threat, as I have said
many times. It is a throne, no more. Symbolic of Homana, the Cheysuli, and our
tahlmorra, which is of no little import—" he smiled faintly, "—but
assuredly it offers nothing more than the dusty odor of history and the
burdensome weight of tradition."
                Kellin knew better than to protest;
let them believe as they would. He knew better.
                Now, so did Urchin.
                "I, too, am pleased,” the
Mujhar declared. "Rogan has brought good tidings of your progress."
He glanced briefly at his wife, passing a silent message, then touched each
boy-on the shoulder. "Now, surely you can find better ways to spend your
time than with women and women's things," he grinned at the queen to show
he meant no gibe, "so I suggest you be about it. Rogan has the day to
himself and has gone into the city; I suggest you see if Harlech has something
to teach you of a commander's duties."
                Urchin bowed quick acquiesence, then
followed Kellin from the chamber.
                "Wait." Kellin stepped
rapidly aside to the wall beside the still-open door, catching Urchin's arm to
halt him. "Listen," he whispered.
                Urchin's expression was dubious;
blue eyes flicked in alarm toward the door. "But—"
                Kellin mashed a silencing hand into
his friend's mouth. He barely moved his lips. "There is something he wants
to tell her . . . something I am not to hear—"
                Kellin bit off his sentence as his
grandmother began speaking, " ‘Tis Aidan, isn't it?" she asked
tensely in the room beyond, "You've heard."
                "A message." The Mujhar's
tone was curiously flat, squashed all out of shape. Without seeing his
grandsire, Kellin heard the layered emotions: resignation, impatience,