"I don't know that his Grace would be very interested," the servant said.
"I don't believe I know his Grace," Silk said artfully. "Do you suppose you could tell me his name?"
"He's the Archduke Otrath, sir," the servant answered, puffing himself up slightly.
"He's a member of the imperial family."
"Oh?"
"He's the third cousin—twice removed—of his Imperial Majesty, Kal Zakath."
"Really? What an amazing thing. I'm so sorry to have missed him. I'll tell his Majesty that I stopped by the next time I see him, though."
"You know his Majesty?"
"Oh, yes. We're old friends."
"Might I ask your name, honored sir?"
"Oh, sorry. How very stupid of me. I'm Prince Kheldar of Drasnia."
"The Prince Kheldar?"
"I certainly hope there aren't any others." Si!k laughed. "I can get into enough trouble all by myself."
"His Grace will be very sorry to have missed you, your Highness."
"I'll be in Melcena for several weeks," Silk said. "Perhaps I can call again. When do you expect his Grace to return?"
"That's very hard to say, your Highness. He left not three days ago with some people from the mainland." The white-haired servant paused thoughtfully. "If you and your friends wouldn't mind waiting for a few moments, Prince Kheldar, I'll go advise her Grace, the Archduke's wife, that you're here. Her Grace has so few visitors out here, and she loves company. Won't you please come inside? I'll go to her at once and tell her that you're here."
They dismounted and followed him into a broad entry-way. He bowed rather stiffly and went off down a corridor lined with tapestries.
"Very smooth, Kheldar," Velvet murmured admiringly.
"They don't call me Silk for nothing," he said, polishing his ring on the front of his pearl-gray doublet.
When the tall servant returned, he had a slightly pained look on his face. "Her Grace is a bit indisposed at the moment, your Highness," he apologized to Silk.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Silk replied with genuine regret. "Perhaps another time, then."
"Oh, no, your Highness. Her Grace insists on seeing you, but please forgive her if she seems a bit—ah—disoriented.
One of Silk's eyebrows shot up.
"It's the isolation, your Highness," the servant confided, looking embarrassed. "Her Grace is not happy in this somewhat bucolic locale, and she's resorted to a certain amount of reinforcement in her exile."
"Reinforcement?"
"I trust I can count on your Highness' discretion?"
"Of course."
"Her Grace takes some wine from time to time, your Highness, and this appears to be one of those times. I'm afraid she's had a bit more than is really good for her."
"This early in the morning?"
"Her Grace does not keep what one might call regular hours. If you'll come with me, please."
As they followed the servant down a long corridor, Silk murmured back over his shoulder to the rest of them. "Follow my lead on this," he said. "Just smile and try not to look too startled at what I say."
"Don't you just love it when he gets devious?" Velvet said admiringly to Ce'Nedra.
The archduchess was a lady in her mid-thirties. She had luxurious dark hair and very large eyes. She had a pouting lower lip and an ever-so-slightly overgenerous figure which filled her burgundy gown to the point of overflowing. She was also as drunk as a lord. She had discarded her goblet and now drank directly from a decanter. "Prince Kheldar," She hiccuped, trying to curtsy. Sadi moved sinuously to catch her arm to prevent a disaster.
" 'Scuse me," she slurred to him. "So nice of you."
‘‘My pleasure, your Grace," the eunuch said politely.
She blinked at him several times. "Are you really bald? Is that an affectation?"
"It's a cultural thing, your Grace," he explained, bowing.
"How disappointing," she sighed, rubbing her hand over his head and taking another drink from the decanter. "Could I offer you all something to drink?" she asked brightly.
Most of them declined with faint headshakes. Beldin, however, stumped forward with his hand extended. "Why not?" the grotesque little man said. "Let's try a rip of that, me girl." For some reason he had lapsed into Feldegast's brogue.
Belgarath rolled his eyes ceiling ward.
The archduchess laughed uproariously and passed over the decanter.
Beldin drained it without stopping for breath. "Very tasty," he belched, tossing the decanter negligently into a corner, "but ale's me preference, y'r Ladyship. Wine's hard on the stomach so early of a morning."
"Ale it shall be, then," she crowed happily. "We'll all sit around and swill ourselves into insensibility." She fell back on a couch, exposing a great deal of herself in the process. "Bring ale," she commanded the embarrassed servant, "lots and lots of ale."
"As your Grace commands," the tall man replied stiffly, withdrawing.
"Nice enough fellow," the archduchess slurred, "but he's so terribly stuffy sometimes. He absolutely refuses to take a drink with me." Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Nobody wants to drink with me," she complained. She held out her arms imploringly to Beldin, and he enfolded her in an embrace. ''You understand, don't you, my friend?" she sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder.
"Of course I do," he said, patting her shoulder. ‘ 'There, there, me little darlin'," he said, "'twill all be right again soon."
The noblewoman regained her composure, sniffed loudly, and fished for a handkerchief. "It's not that I want to be like this, your Highness," she apologized, trying to focus her eyes on Silk. "It's just that I'm so absolutely bored out here. Otrath has all the social grace of an oyster, so he's imprisoned me out here in the hinterlands with nothing but the booming of the surf and the screeching of gulls for company. I so miss the balls and the dinner parties and the conversation in Melcena. What am I to do with myself out here?"
" Tis crue! hard, me darlin'," Beldin agreed. He took the small cask of ale the servant cringingly brought, placed it between his knees, and bashed in the top with his gnarled fist. "Would ye care fer a sup, sweeting?" he asked the duchess politely, holding out the cask.
"I'd drown if I tried to drink out of that," she protested with a silly little laugh.