Knight or Knave The Book of the Oak

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One In the capital cityof Rendelsham, a steady drizzle had been falling for days, keeping all inside whose duties did not require that they venture out. Also it was unseasonably cold. Servants kept fireplaces stoked and the damp, green wood they were forced to useall the seasoned having been used during the wintersent clouds of smoke over the city. Inside houses where chimneys were not efficient, a similar veil of smoke hung in he air, making people cough and sneeze as they huddled into warm clothing they had thought to put away until winter. The forced idleness had its uses, however, for there seemed to be no one at court who was not occupied with the problem of what to do with Ashen, daughter of the late Kind Boroth, newly come to Rendel from the Bale-Bog where she had spent most of her life. This was an illegitimate daughter, to be sure, but one possessing a strong claim to the throne, perhaps enough to topple the new King, Florian, if only the lady herself had been of a mind to undertake such a thing. Thus, in many residences this topic was the subject of much conjecture, and prominent among them were the households of the Dowager Queen Ysa, who consulted frequently with Lord Royance, Head of the Council of Regents, and Count Harous, now officially the Lord Marshal of Rendel, who consulted with no one. Rather, he was given to action and it was obvious that the action upon which he was now embarked was the wooing or Lady Ashen herself. This day Lady Marcala of Valvagerin reality, Marfey, Queen of Spieshad come seeking audience with the Queen, who granted it willingly. "Welcome!" she said when Marcala came into her privy chamber. She turned to her ladies. "Being heated wine and spice cakes, and then leave us." Marcala let Lady Ingrid take her rain-dewed cloak to hang near the fire where it might dry. She approached the fireplace gratefully, rubbing her hands. "Even with gloves lined with rabbit fur the cold seeps through and pinches my fingers," she said. "I've forgotten the last time I saw sunlight." "I welcome your presence, but I know the errand must have been urgent to bring you all the way from Cragden Keep. Come, take a seat by the fire. You'll soon be warm enough." Lady Ingrid hurried in with the flagon of wine and two goblets, and a plate of cakes on a tray. Marcala poured for both herself and the Dowager and waited until Ingrid had left again before taking up her tale. "If I could draw upon the heat inside me, I would not need a cloak," the younger woman said, a bitter note in her voice. She drew up the low chair the Dowager indicated and sat down with the air of one on intimate terms with the actual ruler of Rendel. "Instead, I am left to molder in Cragden, while Harous dallies with Ashen here in the city." "Surely our good Count is not behaving improperly." "As to that, I do not know. But, to be fair, Ashen lived for many years in the Bog, and defended herself from what threatened from any quarter. Surely she is not so bedazzled that she would yield to Harous's blandishments before marriage for all that he was the one who rescued her and brought her here." Ysa looked keenly at her noblewoman, her own creation, the supreme spy she had set to be her human eyes and ears in the household of one who might be a threat or a danger to her plans. She did not miss the reference to marriage, nor did she miss the unmistakable resentment in Marcala's voice. This resentment, Ysa knew, came from jealousyand this jealousy came from the spell Ysa had herself performed to make sure Marcala's interest focused on Harous. With Marcala enthralled by Harous, Ysa knew