“Brothers and sisters! Welcome to Clayhills Place, as this fine house is now called.”
The guests cheered Deneesa. She felt exhilarated. Was it the extended physical intimacy of earlier, or was it the prospect of a new power base, a national one rather than just a regional one?
“Brothers and sisters, what a joy it is to see you all. Thank you for coming. As you know, this morning I married the jewel of Kimalloa’s future…” She paused for applause. “I married the brave, the handsome General Arlo Clayhills!”
Arlo stepped forward to receive more applause.
“It is a joy to have such a loving personal partnership…” She hoped that people had noticed the unusual glow of her cheeks. “But together, we are something more than that. We have a lot of work to do in this country. We two, we will be out there on the front line of our peace as we were on the front line of our war.”
There was a round of rapturous applause. Deneesa smiled broadly, and then held up her hands to quieten the clapping.
“Thank you! Thank you and bless you! Enjoy yourselves this evening, brothers and sisters, old friends, new kin, and may the Eternal Spirit bless our beloved Republic of Kimalloa!”
The gathered folk raised cups of overly sweet South Borielan wine and cheered. Deneesa noted that Arlo looked a bit baffled as she took the lead that he perhaps thought was his to take, but his gray eyes were sparkling and he was happily shaking hands. Now she would do what she had learned to do to consolidate Grakko’s power in his region. First, she honed in on Squire Coppermills and his young second wife. Deneesa asked polite questions, showed that she remembered details about them, nodded when either expressed an opinion, thanked them for the support and friendship that they might not yet have given, and emphasized every virtue that she thought Arlo had, and his great vision for Kimalloa. As soon as she detected a certain tiredness from these two, she moved on to Squire Beechwoods and his good lady, an attentive nurse to his many ailments. After some moments, they made excuses to find other people they needed to talk to. So on she went, from couple to couple, and eventually to the unique oneness of Arch-Elder Yeramo, who preached on the righteousness of marriage and fruitfulness, but had never found himself a wife.
“A wonderful party, Mistress Clayhills. I see that you are mustering your tribe already.”
“We live in interesting times, Arch-Elder. One needs to hold friends close.”
“Indeed. So why are your foster daughter and her new husband not here?”
Deneesa did not reply.
“It looks bad,” Yeramo commented.
She now stumbled into an excuse that she knew would fail to impress Yeramo. “I wanted to spare them any… embarrassment. I mean, so many of our folk… would not have much to say to either of them.”
“Very thoughtful, I’m sure.”
A calculation skipped through Deneesa’s astutely political mind. Yeramo’s goodwill was probably worth twenty votes in the Assembly. “Thank you for bringing my omission to my attention, Arch-Elder. I do wish them well, really, I do. I’ll visit them with the girls tomorrow and apologize, and invite them to supper.”
“Bless you, Mistress Clayhills. Ye’re a beacon of the Truth.”
Deneesa moved away, trying to keep smiling.
Lord Ulfan sidled up to her. “Commiserations, Deneesa. It must be hard to be corrected by the Great Turncoat Raa,” he said very softly.
Deneesa’s forced smile cracked a little. “Greetings, kinsman. I thank you for your support.”
Ulfan moved position to overshadow her and block the view of other guests. “It’s not her, is it?”
Deneesa looked up at Ulfan. Should she trust him? Her late husband had. “Hmm. Well, I know how well you loved Grakko. I can’t help wondering…”
“Why he was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“Ye’ve wondered too?”
“Well, let’s wallow in the virtue of patience, Deneesa. Everyone is expecting Esta to ruin your father-in-law’s Yerallan cuckoo. Sooner rather than later, I hope.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“Did I say that she would know about it?” Ulfan grinned.
Deneesa shook her head and laughed quietly.
“I can tell that ye’ve had a… busy… day with the young Clayhills. D’ye think you can… guide him?”
Deneesa put her hand up to her face as if to adjust her veil, and mouthed something.
