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trammel, rites and hypocrisies that made him king pulled at him, sucking and tugging him down like quicksand into
suffocation.
When his horse was brought across the stable yard to him, he swung up into the saddle so abruptly that the horse
caught his mood and backed and reared, driving back the hostlers and attendants. To see the circle widen out around
him gave Lebannen a harsh satisfaction. He set the horse straight for the gateway without waiting for the men in his
retinue to mount. He led them at a sharp trot through the streets of the city, far ahead of them, aware of the dilemma of
the young officer who was supposed to precede him calling, "Way for the king!" but who had been left behind him
and now did not dare ride past him.
It was near noon; the streets and squares of Havnor were hot and bright and mostly deserted. Hearing the clatter of
hooves, people hurried to the doorways of little dark shops to stare and recognise and salute the king. Women sitting
in their windows fanning themselves and gossiping across the way looked down and waved, and one of them threw a
flower down at him. His horse's hooves rang on the bricks of a broad, sunbaked square that lay empty except for a
curly-tailed dog trotting away on three legs, unconcerned with royalty. Out of the square the king took a narrow
passage that led to the paved way beside the Serrenen, and followed it in the shadow of the willows under the old city
wall to River House.
The ride had changed his temper somewhat. The heat and silence and beauty of the city, the sense of multitudinous
life behind walls and shutters, the smile of the woman who had tossed a flower, the petty satisfaction of keeping ahead
of all his guardians and pomp makers, then finally the scent and coolness of the river ride and the shady courtyard of
the house where he had known days and nights of peace and pleasure, all took him a little distance from his anger. He
felt estranged from himself, no longer possessed but emptied.
The first riders of his retinue were just coming into the courtyard as he swung off his horse, which was glad to stand
in the shade. He went into the house, dropping among dozing footmen like a stone into a glassy pond, causing
quick-widening circles of dismay and panic. He said, "Tell the princess that I am here."
Lady Opal of the Old Demesne of Ilien, currently in charge of the princess's ladies-in-waiting, appeared promptly,
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greeted him graciously, offered him refreshment, behaved quite as if his visit were no surprise at all. This suavity half
placated, half irritated him. Endless hypocrisy! But what was Lady Opal to do—gawp like a stranded fish (as a
very young lady-in-waiting was doing) because the king had finally and unexpectedly come to see the princess?
"I'm so sorry Mistress Tenar isn't here at present," she said. "It's so much easier to converse with the princess with
her help. But the princess is making admirable progress in the language."
Lebannen had forgotten the problem of language. He accepted the cool drink offered him and said nothing. Lady Opal
made small talk with the assistance of the other ladies, getting very little from the king. He had begun to realise that he
would probably be expected to speak with the princess in the company of all her ladies, as was only proper. Whatever
he had intended to say to her, it had become impossible to say anything. He was just about to get up and excuse
himself, when a woman whose head and shoulders were hidden by a red circular veil appeared in the doorway, fell plop
on her knees, and said, "Please? King? Princess? Please?"
"The princess will receive you in her chambers, sire," Lady Opal interpreted. She waved to a footman, who escorted
him upstairs, along a hall, through an anteroom, through a large, dark room that seemed to be crammed absolutely full
of women in red veils, and out onto a balcony over the river. There stood the figure he remembered: the immobile
cylinder of red and gold.
The breeze from the water made the veils tremble and shimmer, so that the figure did not appear solid but delicate,
moving, shivering, like the willow foliage. It seemed to shrink, to shorten. She was making her courtesy to him. He
bowed to her. They both straightened up and stood in silence.
"Princess," Lebannen said, with a feeling of unreality, hearing his own voice, "I am here to ask you to come with us to
Roke Island."
She said nothing. He saw the fine red veils part in an oval as she spread them with her hands. Long-fingered,
golden-skinned hands, held apart to reveal her face in the red shadow. He could not see her features clearly. She was
nearly as tall as he, and her eyes looked straight at him.
"My friend Tenar," she said, "say: king to see king, face and face. I say: yes. I will."
Half understanding, Lebannen bowed again. "You honor me, my lady."
"Yes," she said. "I honor you."
He hesitated. This was a different ground entirely. Her ground.
She stood there straight and still, the gold edging of her veils shivering, her eyes looking at him out of the shadow.
"Tenar, and Tehanu, and Orm Irian, agree that it would be well if the Princess of the Kargad Lands were with us on
Roke Island. So I ask you to come with us."
"To come."
"To Roke Island."
"On ship," she said, and suddenly made a little moaning plaintive noise. Then she said, "I will. I will to come."
He did not know what to say. He said, "Thank you, my lady."
She nodded once, equal to equal.
He bowed. He left her as he had been taught to leave the presence of his father the prince at formal occasions in the
court of Enlad, not turning his back but stepping backwards.
She stood facing him, still holding her veil parted till he reached the doorway. Then she dropped her hands, and the
veils closed, and he heard her gasp and breathe out hard as if in release from an act of will sustained almost past
endurance.
Courageous, Tenar had called her. He did not understand, but he knew that he been in the presence of courage. All
the anger that had filled him, brought him here, was gone, vanished. He had not been sucked down and suffocated,
but brought up short in front of a rock, a high place in clear air, a truth.
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