From: mar@physics.su.OZ.AU (David Mar)
Subject: STORY: net.fiction.story Part 2 (repost)
Keywords:  repost, story
Organization: School of Physics, University of Sydney, Australia
Date: Thu, 9 Apr 1992 07:19:10 GMT

Part 2
      by David Mar
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Anya hesitated a second, not really knowing what thoughts went through her
head, then pushed the key home in the lock and immediately dropped her
hand from it. She exhaled sharply and stared at it in frustration,
wondering which, if any, of the lessons taught her as a young girl by old
Kelidd applied here.

She stalked across the room, thinking it strange for the Lord - her husband
to be - to leave such an object with her, and with such strange orders
regarding its opening. She spun on the finely woven woollen rug and glared
at the key again. It sit firmly in the lock of the Box, its gem reflecting
small points of pink light as Anya debated the various merits of leaving
or opening the box, and tried to decide why Lord Derek had left such a
temptation for her. Was it to see if she would obey his orders, or to
determine that she was prepared to make and carry out her own decisions?

Two sharp, but not overly loud, raps on the door startled her out of her
thoughts. She glanced around the still unfamiliar room and crossed quickly
to the door, pulling it open to the gently smiling figure of the Lord
himself. "Mylord..." Anya stammered, the collection of thoughts she had
felt at their first meeting rising unbidden to her mind.

"Lady Anya," Lord Derek raised his hand to stay her discomfiture, "I have
come with but a simple request. There will of course be a banquet to
celebrate your arrival here in Drael. Tomorrow night," he continued
smoothly at the look of concern on Anya's face, "so that you may have time
to rest after your journey. But you must dine this night also, and I would
be honoured if you would share a modest meal with me this evening, so that
we may have some time to acquaint ourselves."

Relaxed by the sincerity of his words, Anya felt herself returning Derek's
smile as she answered, "But of course, mylord; I shall be happy to dine
with you tonight."

Derek's eyes flashed briefly past Anya, surveying her chamber with a quick
glance, then focused intently on Anya's own, deep green, eyes. Before any
sense of confrontation developed, he broke into a broad grin. "Very well,
then. I hope the quarters are to your liking," he gestured towards the
interior of the room.

"Very much so," Anya returned Derek's grin, thinking that she might get to
like this man, who seemed even more agreeable without the formality, after
all.

"That is well, then. I shall see you tonight. Catherine will come for you
at the changing of the watch." Derek took his leave and withdrew down the
corridor.

Anya closed the door and turned back into her chamber, a flurry of confused
thoughts and emotions racing through her head. Her eyes fell on the pink
glinting of the gem in the key, easily visible from the door in its place
in the lock of the Box. Catching her breath, Anya swallowed and then spat
a word which Kelidd most certainly had not taught her. He knew! No; he
thought he knew. He thought she had opened the Box! That was why he had
grinned like that! Another word came spontaneously to Anya's lips.

Well, Anya thought, if he thought that she had opened the Box and felt fit
only to smile about it, then he could not be too displeased about it. And
if she was already considered guilty....

Pleased with her logic, Anya walked over to the Box, turned the key and
opened the oaken lid carefully on its polished brass hinges. The empty
interior stared back at her. She gave the box a quizzical look, then stared
out the doors which led to the balcony above the courtyard as she pondered
this new mystery. She slowly closed the lid again and, holding the gem,
turned the key to lock the box. Concentrating on trying to discover Lord
Derek's motives, she absently removed the key and crossed to the small
table of hand-carved ash by the balcony doors, on which she placed the key.
The sunlight entering through the doors caught the gem's blood red colour
and splashed it about the room.

Anya stood frozen, not even breathing for several seconds. Then she picked
the key up again, examining the gem carefully as she backed towards the
huge four-poster bed in the corner. When she reached it, she collapsed on
it, thinking furiously: He knew she had not opened the box! But now she
had. And the key is the evidence! Damn him!

Her thoughts then shifted to the fact that she had been sent to Drael to
secure an alliance for Merindale, via this marriage. If she had spoiled
that, then she had in one rash instant betrayed her entire family and all
of their people. Damn him again!

Anya lay for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts and breathing steadily.
She may have been outwitted, but she was still a Lady of Merindale, and
she would see her duties through at any cost. She thought again of the
young girl in the courtyard and of the apparent hatred of the peasants in
the village, and decided that some costs were distinctly more unpleasant
than others. She would have to ask Lord Derek about the villagers. And she
would be damned if she would let some silly game with boxes and magical
keys keep her from forging the alliance! So thinking, she began to unpack
the saddlebags which held a few modest changes of clothes for her, and of
which Catherine strangely had not taken care.

The closet was already full of clothing: dresses and finery the likes and
splendour of which she had never seen before.

***

Lord Derek sat in the conference chamber, slumped back on his seat and
staring at the patterns of flickering light that the lamps cast on the dim
and foreboding stone walls. The captain of the guard strode in, the heels
of his boots clicking softly on the floor, and stood at attention at the
end of the long, narrow table.

Captain Derek cast his eyes to his Lord and namesake, who still appeared
lost in thought. He cleared his throat and spoke, "You sent for me,
mylord?"

"Derek," the blond man gestured his captain to a chair, "we can dispense
with the pleasantries. I've been thinking about certain things, and I would
like your opinion." He pierced the darker man with a penetrating gaze as he
took a seat.

"The alliance?" The captain rested his elbows on the smooth oak of the
table and his chin on his interwoven fingers. His eyes slid off the Lord of
the castle and studied the shimmering light on the stonework. He could
always tell when something was bothering Lord Derek, and usually what the
problem was as well. "You know well what it means for Drael."

"Yes, but I am beginning to wonder. Merindale is so vastly different to
Drael. Our interests may be similar now, but who can say where we may have
our differences in the future?"

Captain Derek breathed a soft sigh. "The future is not for men such as us
to know. Go ask a seer if you would rather anticipate what is to come than
make plans for what we know goes on around us now. With reports that Yurin
is preparing for war coming from the borders, it makes sense to strengthen
our friendships on all sides. The hunter-warriors of Merindale are well
known for their bravery and skill. Not to mention the growth in trade which
will follow naturally after the marriage." Derek stopped abruptly, sensing
the slight flinch of his Lord from the corner of his eye. "So that is what
is making you speak thus," he turned to face Lord Derek.

The Lord did not shy from his captain's intent gaze. "Partly." He
straightened in his seat and leaned forward over the conference table.
"We know little of Merindale. They are a strange people, with different
customs and ways to our own. They do not even live in houses, I am told!
I have heard stories from the village that very few are pleased about the
arrival of Lady Anya. How can we be part of an alliance when our own people
will not trust our allies?!" He rapped his knuckles loudly on the table top
and slumped back in his chair again.

A heavy silence fell in the chamber, the captain's mind racing for a way to
convince his superior that all would be well, if only he would marry the
Lady Anya without causing an incident.

"And the Lady herself," Lord Derek broke the silence with a softer tone.
"What is your impression of her?"

After a split-second of consideration, Derek began, "She is beautiful..."

"I can see that for myself," snapped the Lord, "What does she think? What
is her demeanour?"

"She seems... spirited, mylord."

Lord Derek considered this for a brief moment, then, "Yes. She is either
entirely too frivolous, or entirely too headstrong." He rose from his seat,
ending the meeting. "Attend your duties, captain."

As Captain Derek left the conference chamber, Lord Derek extracted a long
steel key from a pocket and held it up so that the lamplight caught in the
deep red gemstone set in its end. "And I have not yet decided which," he
muttered softly to himself.
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