In Which Battle Lines Are Drawn

Lynde Falconer to Master Owen Falconer

Dear Father,

I will be addressing my letters to you in the future that I might be certain to communicate my tidings only to those who find it of interest.

We leave in three days for Seaward, where we will take ship for a rendezvous with several representatives of the pirate clans. The queen believes that they can be convinced to behave more or less as a defensive force in cooperation with Bentlefay’s navy, and they are apparently her own family so I suppose she would know, although it seems very unlikely to me. The negotiations have reached a point that they require a representative – some kind of pirate ceremony that pirates do, and it is very important that it be the right kind of person since pirates are very touchy in the matter of honor. The queen is up to her eyes in logistics and the king is apparently a martyr to sea-sickness, a circumstance which has been kept assiduously secret in his public image.

Given all that, it has been decided that the princess will be the one to go to sea and meet with the pirate chiefs to seal the agreement. Her mother says that the change will be good for her, and that it is time she took on some of the more ceremonial tasks of governing. After all, she will be the ruling monarch someday, although of course we all hope that the king enjoys long life.

I saw the logic of all this of course, but there is such a siege mentality here in the castle that I wondered at the queen’s willingness to send the princess out among such questionable characters as pirates.

“Not at all,” said the queen. “They will all be relations of Dulcie’s on the distaff side, so you will see that they cherish her virtue even more than we do. Pirates are like that with their daughters; it was always extremely inconvenient for me – but of course now that I have a daughter of my own I see their point.”

Of course I have never been south of the capital before nor seen the sea in my life, so I am looking forward to the journey with a mixture of interest and trepidation. The princess, of course, is bounding for joy with the whole affair, so we should have a lively time.

I hope you are all well there, and not missing me too much. Tell Master Crowder he is not to consider himself bound in any way. I confidently await news of a new betrothal.

Your loving,
Lynde

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From the diary of Dulcie, Crown Princess of Bentlefay

I have finally been able to discover what the matter is with Lynde. This was not due to any detective zeal on my part – I am ashamed to say that I was too full of my own affairs even to think about it until it was thrust upon me.

Of course I have been full to bursting with the matter of going to sea on the mission to the pirate clans. Not only is it something I have always wanted to do, but it sounds impossibly romantic when put that way, and the prospect of being able to actually do something constructive for the war effort instead of standing around uncomfortably makes me feel human again after the past few weeks of helpless impotence.

So it wasn’t until we were almost finished packing that I bustled officiously from my room into Lynde’s in search of a lavender sachet and found Lynde herself slumped dejectedly on the corner of her bed with a packet of letters in her hands and her eyes full of tears.

The picture assorted so ill with her that I was unable to command a response and just stood there with my pop eyes gazing into her tearstained ones for a few long breaths. Then she gave two sharp sniffs and started to cry again, and I found my voice.

“Oh Lynde, what is it?” I cried. “I’m a beast. Is everything all right at home? I’ve been so full of this ridiculous affair that I haven’t even asked you. Here,” I gave her my handkerchief and sat down next to her, “have a good blow and tell me all about it.”

Lynde’s face screwed itself up mournfully.

“It’s Tom. It’s our engagement. I – I don’t think we’re engaged anymore.” She blew her nose and wilted another couple of inches. “Oh, I don’t want to bother you with it. You’ve been so b-b-busy. And it’s so silly,” she added drearily.

I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Nonsense – out with it.”

So she outed with it, and a more ridiculous, illogical lover’s spat over nothing I have never heard. She showed me his letters and told me everything she had written in hers, and at the end of it I still could not for the life of me determine the cause of the actual problem.

“Well,” I said dubiously when she was done, “I don’t see why you think he gave a rap about your cousin Minnie before, but if your letters haven’t forced him into a closer look he’s a miracle of restraint. Whatever possessed you?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. “He couldn’t seem to stop going on about how charming she was, and how she admired him, and how close she was to the family. And she’s s-s-small.”

I blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You see, nobody has ever admired Tom that way but me. Just like nobody has ever admired me but Tom. And I know that I tower over him and could break him in half, but that has never mattered before because it isn’t as though there were anyone else.” She blew her nose again. “But now there is someone. Someone who is dainty, and charming, and likes the same things he likes.”

“So you thought you would drive him away before he left of his own accord?”

“I s-s-suppose.”

“I’ve read about that in bad poetry, but I never thought a human being would be so foolish.”

Lynde looked as though she was about to cry again and I added hastily, “But you know, I think you’ve undervalued yourself as well as Tom. Nobody should get engaged to someone just because you don’t think anyone else would be interested. You’re a beautiful young woman, Lynde, and it’s an awfully big world with a great many men in it. Come on.” I gave her another shake. “We’re going to sea with pirates! Who knows what might not happen?”

She brightened a little. “We are, aren’t we?”

“We are. So you just put those back in your chest and look to the future! Now,” I rose to my feet purposefully. “Where do you keep your lavender sachets?”