Sherwood Smith QUOTES

101 " Oria and I walked into the kitchen to find Julen staring at a handsome young man with curly black hair and fine new livery in Astiar colors.
His chin was up, and he swept a cool glance over us all as he said, “My errand is with my lady, the Countess of Tlanth.”
“I am she.” I stepped forward.
He gave me one incredulous look, then hastily smoothed his face as he bowed low. In the background, Julen clucked rather audibly. Next to me Oria had her arms crossed, her face stony. The young man looked about with the air of one who knows himself in unfriendly territory, and I reflected that for all his airs my brother had hired him or he wouldn’t be here, and he deserved a chance to present himself fair.
“Surely you’ll have been warned that we are very informal here,” I said, and gave him a big smile.
And for some reason he flushed right up to his fine hairline. Bowing again, he said courteously, “My lady, I was to give this directly to you.”
I held out one hand, noticed the dirt smudges, and hastily wiped it on my clothes before putting it out again. When I glanced up at the equerry, I saw in his eyes just a hint of answering amusement at the absurdity of the situation, though his face was strictly schooled when he handed me the letter.
“Welcome among us. What is your name?” I said.
“Jerrol, as it pleases you, my lady.” And again the bow.
“Well, it’s your name if it pleases me or not,” I said, sitting on the edge of the great slate prep table.
Julen clucked again, but softly, and I looked to the side, saw the preparations for tarts lying at the ready, and hastily jumped down again.
“Tell me, Jerrol,” I said, “if a great Court lady mislikes the name of a new equerry, will she rename him or her?”
“Like…Frogface or Stenchbelly?” Calaub asked from the open window, and beyond him three or four urchins snickered.
Jerrol glanced about him, his face quite blank, but only for a moment. He then swept me a truly magnificent bow--so flourishing that no one could miss the irony--and he said, “An my lady pleases to address me as Stenchbelly, I shall count myself honored.” He pronounced it all with awful elegance.
And everyone laughed! I said, “I think you’ll do, Jerrol, for all your clothes are better than any of us have seen for years. But you will have heard something of our affairs, I daresay, and I wonder how my brother managed to hire you, and fit you out this splendidly, in our colors?”
“Wager on it yon letter will explain,” Julen said grimly, turning to plunge her hands into her flour.
“Oh!” I had forgotten Jerrol’s original purpose for arriving, and looked down at the letter with my name scrawled above the seal in Branaric’s careless hand. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

103 " Wondering how I would make it through a hand-to-hand duel, I glanced around--and just then I saw one of Galdran’s equerries fall from his saddle, his banner-spear spinning through the air toward me. Instinctively my free hand reached up and I caught the spear by the shaft. Ignoring the sting in my hand, I jammed my sword into its sheath and started whirling the spear round and round, making the banner snap and stream as my prancing, sidling horse circled round my brother. Horses turned their heads and backed away; no one was able to edge up and get in a good blow at Bran, who swayed in his saddle, his bad arm hanging limp. The warriors fell back, and no one swung at me.
Dimly I became aware of an ugly, harsh voice shouting over the crash and thuds of battle. Keeping the banner whirling, I guided my horse with my knees and risked a glance back over my shoulder--and looked straight into Galdran’s rage-darkened face. He said something, spittle flying from his mouth, as he pointed straight at me.
A moment later a flicker of movement on my immediate left caused me to glance round. Shevraeth was there, next to me. “Fall back,” he ordered, his voice sharp.
“No. Got to protect Bran--”
There was no time for more. The Marquis was beset by furious attackers as the King shouted orders from a short distance away. Then more riders appeared from somewhere, and for a moment everything was too chaotic to follow. I found myself suddenly on the edge of the battle; there were too many fighters on both sides between my brother and me. Too many fighters in the liveries of the Baron and the King. Despair burned through me, cold as winter ice.
We were losing.
Then my horse plunged aside, I shifted in the saddle, and I found myself face-to-face with Galdran. He glared at me with hatred; I had this sudden, strange feeling that if we had both been small children facing each other in a village squabble he would have screamed at me, It’s all your fault!
His lips drew back from his teeth. “You, I will kill myself,” he snarled, and he raised his great, flat-bladed sword.
I cast away the flimsy spear and drew my sword just a scarce moment before Galdran struck. The first blow nearly knocked me out off the horse. I parried it--just barely--pain shooting up my arm into my back. My arm was numb, so I used both hands to raise my blade against the expected next blow.
But as Galdran’s sword came down toward my head, it was met by a ringing strike that sent sparks arcing through the air. I looked--saw the Marquis, hair flying, horse dancing, circling round Galdran and forcing his attention away. Then the two were fighting desperately, the King falling back. I watched in fascination until two of the King’s guards rode to Galdran’s aid, and Shevraeth was suddenly fighting against three.
It seemed that the Marquis was going to lose, and I realized I couldn’t watch. Remembering my brother I forced my mount round so I could ride to his aid. But when I spotted him in the chaos of lunging horses and crashing weapons, he was staring past my shoulder, his eyes distended.
“Meliara!” he yelled, trying to ride toward me.
I turned my head, saw the Marquis now fighting against three guards; and once again the King was coming directly at me, sword swinging in a blur. I flung my sword at him and ducked. A blow caught me painfully across the back of my helm, and darkness rushed up to swallow me. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

105 " I crossed the garden, staying near the hedgerow borders until the pathway debouched onto one of the lovely brick streets. A quick glance down the street revealed scarcely any traffic--but way up at the other end were two tall, armed individuals wearing blue and black-and-white livery.
Which meant the Marquis was somewhere around.
For a moment I indulged in a brief but satisfying daydream of scoring him off as I had off the Baron the night before. But amusing as the daydream was, I was not about to go searching him out.
First of all, while I didn’t look like I had before, the dress wasn’t much of a disguise; and second…I frowned. Despite his reputation as a fop and a gamester, I wasn’t all that certain he would react as slowly as Debegri had.
I retreated back to the garden to think out my next step. Mist was falling, boding ill weather for the remainder of the day. And my stomach felt as if it had been permanently pressed against the back of my spine.
I pulled the laces of the bodice tighter, hoping that would help, then sat on a rock and propped my elbows on my knees.
“Are you lost?”
The voice, a quiet one, made me start violently. My shoulders came up defensively as I turned to face an elderly man. He was elegantly dressed, wearing a fine hat in the latest fashion, and carried no weapons.
“Oh no. I was supposed to meet someone here, and…” I shrugged, thinking wildly. “A-a flirt,” I added, I don’t know why. “I guess he changed his mind.” I got to my feet again.
The man smiled a little. “It happens more frequently than not when one is young, if you’ll forgive my saying so.”
“Oh, I know.” I waved my hands as I backed up one step, then another. “They smile, and dance, and then go off with someone else. But I’ll just find someone better. So I’ll be on my way,” I babbled.
He nodded politely, almost a bow, and I whirled around and scurried down the path.
Even more intensely than before, I felt that crawling sensation down my spine, so I dropped off the path and circled back. I was slightly reassured when I saw the old man making his way slowly along the path as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened; but my relief was very short lived.
As I watched, two equerries in Renselaeus livery strode along the path, overtook the man, and addressed him. I watched with my heart thumping like a drum as the man spoke at some length, brushed his fingers against his face--the scratches from the trees!--and then gestured in the direction I had gone.
Expecting the two equerries to immediately take off after me, I braced for a run. Why had I babbled so much? I thought, annoyed with myself. Why didn’t I just say “No” and leave?
But the equerries both turned and walked swiftly back in the direction they’d come, and the old man continued on his way.
What does that mean?
And the answer was not long in coming: They were going back to report.
Which meant a whole lot of them searching. And soon. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

107 " We stepped into the very inn in which we’d had our initial conversation; we passed the little room I had stood outside of, and I shuddered. Now we had a bigger one, but I was too tired to notice much beyond comfortable cushions and warmth. As I sank down, I saw glowing rings around the candles and rubbed my eyes.
When I looked up at Shevraeth, it was in time to catch the end of one of those assessing glances. Then he smiled, a real smile of humor and tenderness.
“I knew it,” he said. “I knew that by now you would have managed to see everything as your fault, and you’d be drooping under the weight.”
“Why did you do it?” I answered, too tired to even try to keep my balance. Someone set down a tray of hot chocolate, and I hiccupped, snorted in a deep breath, and with an attempt at the steadying influence of laughter, added, “Near as I can see I’ve been about as pleasant to be around as an angry bee swarm.”
“At times,” he agreed. “But I take our wretched beginning as my own fault. I merely wanted to intimidate you--and through you, your brother--into withdrawing from the field. What a mess you made of my plans! Every single day I had to re-form them. I’d get everyone and everything set on a new course, and you’d manage to hare off and smash it to shards again, all with the best of motives, and actions as gallant as ever I’ve seen, from man or woman.” He smiled, but I just groaned into my chocolate. “By the time I realized I was going to have to figure you into the plans, you were having none of me, or them. At the same time, you managed to win everyone you encountered--save the Merindars--to your side.”
“I understand about the war. And I even understand why you had to come to Tlanth.” I sighed. “But that doesn’t explain the letters.”
“I think I fell in love with you the day you stood before Galdran in the Throne Room, surrounded by what you thought were enemies, and glared at him without a trace of fear. I knew it when you sat across from me at your table in Tlanth and argued so passionately about the fairest way to disperse an army, with no other motive besides testing your theories. It also became clear to me on that visit that you showed one face to all the rest of the world, and another to me. But after you had been at Athanarel a week, Russav insisted that my cause was not hopeless.”
“Savona? How did he know?”
The Marquis shook his head. “You’d have to address that question to him.”
I rubbed my eyes again. “So his flirtation was false.”
“I asked him to make you popular,” Shevraeth admitted. “Though he will assure you that he found the task thoroughly enjoyable. I wanted your experience of Court to be as easy as possible. Your brother just shrugged off the initial barbs and affronts, but I knew they’d slay you. We did our best to protect you from them, though your handling of the situation with Tamara showed us that you were very capable of directing your own affairs. "

― Sherwood Smith , Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2)

109 " As I watched, two equerries in Renselaeus livery strode along the path, overtook the man, and addressed him. I watched with my heart thumping like a drum as the man spoke at some length, brushed his fingers against his face--the scratches from the trees!--and then gestured in the direction I had gone.
Expecting the two equerries to immediately take off after me, I braced for a run. Why had I babbled so much? I thought, annoyed with myself. Why didn’t I just say “No” and leave?
But the equerries both turned and walked swiftly back in the direction they’d come, and the old man continued on his way.
What does that mean?
And the answer was not long in coming: They were going back to report.
Which meant a whole lot of them searching. And soon.
Yes, I’d really widened my perimeter, I thought furiously, cursing the Baron, music, inns, resorts, food, and the Baron again, throwing in Galdran Merindar and the Marquis of Shevraeth for good measure. I slipped back through the garden to the street. Spotting an alley behind a row of houses, I ducked into that.
And when I heard the thunder of approaching horses’ hooves, I dove toward the first door, which was miraculously open. Slipping inside, a sickly smile on my face, I concocted a wild story about deliveries and the wrong address as I looked about for inhabitants angered at my intrusion.
But my luck had turned a little: The hallway was empty. Behind me was a stairway leading upward, and next to it one leading to a basement. For a moment I wanted to fling myself down that, to hide in the dark, but I restrained myself: There was generally only one way out of a basement.
At my right a plain door-tapestry opened onto a storeroom of some sort. I peeked inside. There were two windows with clouded glass, and a jumble of dishes, small pieces of furniture, trays, and a row of hooks with aprons and caps on them. That outer door was the servants’ entrance, I realized, and this room was their storeroom.
Colors flickering in the clouded glass brought my attention around. Moving right up next to the window, I listened, and heard the slow clopping of hooves. The rhythm broke, then stopped; from another direction came more hooves, which swiftly got closer.
The house I was in was a corner house, the first in a row. Two search parties met right outside my window, where the alley conjoined with the street.
“Nothing this way, my lord,” someone said.
A horse sidled; another whickered.
Then a familiar voice said, not ten paces from me: “Search the houses. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

111 " When I woke the air was hot and stuffy, and I was immediately aware of being shut up in a small painted-canvas box. But before I could react with more than that initial flash of distress, I realized that the carriage had stopped. I struggled up, wincing against a thumping great headache, just as the door opened.
There was the Marquis, holding his hand out. I took it, making a sour face. At least, I thought as I recognized an innyard, he looks as wind tousled and muddy as I must.
But there was no fanfare, no groups of gawking peasants and servants. He picked me up and carried me through a side door, and thence into a small parlor that overlooked the innyard. Seated on plain hemp-stuffed pillows, I looked out at the stable boy and driver busily changing the horses. The longshadows of late afternoon obscured everything; a cheap time-candle in a corner sconce marked the time as green-three.
Sounds at the door brought my attention around. An inn servant entered, carrying a tray laden with steaming dishes. As she set them out I looked at her face, wondering if I could get a chance to talk to her alone--if she might help a fellow-female being held prisoner?
“Coffee?” the Marquis said, splintering my thoughts.
I looked up, and I swear there was comprehension in those gray eyes.
“Coffee?” I repeated blankly.
“A drinkable blend, from the aroma.” He tossed his hat and riding gloves onto the cushion beside him and leaned forward to pour a brown stream of liquid into two waiting mugs. “A miraculous drink. One of the decided benefits of our world-hopping mages,” he said.
“Mages.” I repeated that as well, trying to marshal my thoughts, which wanted to scamper, like frightened mice, in six different directions.
“Coffee. Horses.” A careless wave toward the innyard. “Chocolate. Kinthus. Laimun. Several of the luxuries that are not native to our world, brought here from others.”
I could count the times we’d managed to get ahold of coffee, and I hadn’t cared for its bitterness. But as I watched, honey and cream were spooned into the dark beverage, and when I did take a cautious sip, it was delicious. With the taste came warmth, a sense almost of well-being. For a short time I was content to sit, with my eyes closed, and savor the drink.
The welcome smell of braised potatoes and clear soup brought my attention back to the present. When I opened my eyes, there was the food, waiting before me.
“You had probably better not eat much more than that,” said the Marquis. “We have a long ride ahead of us tonight, and you wouldn’t want to regret your first good meal in days.”
In weeks, I thought as I picked up a spoon, but I didn’t say it out loud--it felt disloyal somehow.
Then the sense of what he’d said sank in, and I almost lost my appetite again. “How long to the capital?”
“We will arrive sometime tomorrow morning,” he said.
I grimaced down at my soup, then braced myself up, thinking that I’d better eat, hungry or not, for I’d need my strength. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

113 " In silence the man reined in his horse, dismounted, lifted me down to a high grassy spot that was scarcely damp. In the gathering gloom he tended to his horse, which presently cropped at the grass. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness; the flare of light from a Fire Stick, and the reddish flicker of a fire, startled me.
At first I turned away, for the unsteady flame hurt my eyes, but after a time the prospect of warmth brought me around, and I started inching toward the fire.
The man looked up, dropped what he was doing, and took a step toward me. “I can carry you,” he said.
I waved him off. “I’ll do it myself,” I said shortly, thinking, Why be polite now? So I’ll be in a good mood when you dump me in Galdran’s dungeon? "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

115 " In silence the man reined in his horse, dismounted, lifted me down to a high grassy spot that was scarcely damp. In the gathering gloom he tended to his horse, which presently cropped at the grass. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness; the flare of light from a Fire Stick, and the reddish flicker of a fire, startled me.
At first I turned away, for the unsteady flame hurt my eyes, but after a time the prospect of warmth brought me around, and I started inching toward the fire.
The man looked up, dropped what he was doing, and took a step toward me. “I can carry you,” he said.
I waved him off. “I’ll do it myself,” I said shortly, thinking, Why be polite now? So I’ll be in a good mood when you dump me in Galdran’s dungeon?
He hesitated. I ignored him and turned my attention to easing forward. After a moment he returned to whatever he had been doing. After a little experimenting, I found that it was easiest to sit backward and inchworm along, dragging my left leg.
Soon enough I was near to his fire, which was properly built in a ring of rocks. Using the tip of his rapier, he held out chunks of bread with cheese, toasting them just enough. The smell made my mouth water.
In silence he divided the food into two portions, laying mine on a flat rock near my hand.
Then he held up a camp kettle. “Want tea? Or just water?”
“Tea,” I said.
He walked off toward the waterfall. I peered after him into the gloom, saw the horse standing near the pool where the water fell. One chance of escape gone. I’d never get to the horse before he could stop me.
With a small sense of relief, I turned my attention to the bread. I was suddenly ravenous, and even though the cheese was still hot, I wolfed my share down and licked my fingers to catch the last crumbs.
By then the man had returned and set the kettle among the embers. Then he looked up, paused, then picked up his share of the bread and reached over to put it in front of me.
“That’s yours,” I said.
“You appear to need it more than I do,” he said, looking amused. “Go ahead. I won’t starve.”
I picked up the bread, feeling a weird sense of unreality: Did he expect me to be grateful? The situation was so strange I simply had to turn it into absurdity--it was either that or sink into fear and apprehension. “Well, does it matter if I starve?” I said. “Or do Galdran’s torturers require only plump victims for their arts? "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

117 " Branaric came in. “Ready?”
“Nearly,” I said, my fingers quickly starting the braid. I suppose you don’t have extra gloves, or another hat?” I eyed the battered object he held in his hand. “No, obviously not. Well, I can ride bareheaded. Who’s to see me that I care about?”
He smiled briefly, then gave me a serious look. “Are you certain you don’t want to join the alliance?”
“Yes.”
He sank down heavily onto the bed and pulled from his tunic a flat-woven wallet. “I don’t know, Mel. What’s toward? You wouldn’t even listen yesterday, or hardly. Isn’t like you, burn it!”
“I don’t trust these cream-voiced courtiers as far as I can spit into a wind,” I said as I watched him pull from the wallet a folded paper. “And I don’t see why we should risk any of our people, or our scarce supplies, to put one of them on the throne. If he wants to be king, let him get it on his own.”
Bran sighed, his fingers working at the shapeless brim of his hat. “I think you’re wrong.”
“You’re the one who was willed the title,” I reminded him. “I’m not legally a countess--I haven’t sworn anything at Court. Which means it’s just a courtesy title until you marry. You can do whatever you want, and you have a legal right to it.”
“I know all that. Why are you telling me again? I remember we both promised when Papa died that we’d be equals in war and in peace. You think I’ll renege, just because we disagree for the first time? If so, you must think me as dishonest as you paint them.” He jerked his thumb back at the rest of the Renselaeus palace. I could see that he was upset.
“I don’t question you, Bran. Not at all. What’s that paper?”
Instead of answering, he tossed it to me. I unfolded it carefully, for it was so creased and battered it was obvious it had seen a great deal of travel. Slowly and painstakingly I puzzled out the words--then looked up in surprise. “This is Debegri’s letter about the colorwoods!”
“Shevraeth asked about proof that the Merindar’s were going to break the Covenant. I brought this along, thinking that--if we were to join them--they could use it to convince the rest of Court of Galdran’s treachery.”
“You’d give it to them?” I demanded.
Bran sighed. “I thought it a good notion, but obviously you don’t. Here. You do whatever you think best. I’ll bide by it.” He dropped the wallet onto my lap. “But I wish you’d give them a fair listen.”
I folded the letter up, slid it inside the waterproof wallet, and then put it inside my tunic. “I guess I’ll have to listen to the father, at any rate, over breakfast.” As I wrapped my braid around my head and tucked the end under, I added, “Which we’d better get to as soon as possible, so we have a full day of light on the road.”
“You go ahead--it was you the Prince invited. I’ll chow with Shevraeth. And be ready whenever you are.”
It was with a great sense of relief that I went to the meal, knowing that I’d only have to face one of them. And for the last time ever, I vowed as the ubiquitous servants bowed me into a small dining room.
The Prince was already seated in a great chair. With a graceful gesture he indicated the place opposite him, and when I was seated, he said, “My wife will regret not having had a chance to meet you, Lady Meliara.”
Wondering what this was supposed to mean, I opened my hands. I hoped it looked polite--I was not going to lie and say I wished I might have met her, for I didn’t, even if it was true that she had aided my palace escape. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)

119 " Did you really think you could take a few hundred ill-trained village people into war and expect anything but defeat?”
I opened my mouth to retort, then realized I’d be spoiling what little strategy we did have.
But then he said wryly, “Or did you expect the rest of the kingdom to follow your heroic example and rise up against the King?”
Which is, of course, exactly what we had expected. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)