"Well met, Commander."
"My lord, allow me to introduce Lord Khiklos'iih, First Minister of Gealollh."
Khiklos'iih, a man so short that Ghorn had to look down to meet his eyes, was quite thoroughly bald. He stepped forward and extended a warm smile and hearty handshake, both rigidly professional. "Welcome to Gealollh, Prince-Commander. If you will accompany me, Prince Rhelfa awaits you in his throne room."
With no further ceremony, the First Minister and his party preceded Ghorn and his marines down into the tower, along branching corridors, and into the throne room, where they announced him and then retired to seating at one side.
The seat of authority of the Gealollhaerii'n palace was rather modest and plain, at least by Mhajhkaeirii'n standards. Only some fifty paces long by twenty wide, with rows of fat brick columns holding up a roof supported on iron trusses, the rectangular hall had no windows, but had to be lit with candle-festooned chandeliers. Spectator balconies (currently empty, Ghorn was quick to note) hung down amongst the columns to the left and right. Little extraneous decoration had been applied to the architecture, but a large banner of the Principate and a marginally smaller ensign of Gealollh were strategically hung from the wall behind the throne. Not a true dais, the seat of authority sat on a raised section of floor that had a shallow slope leading up to it.
The occupant of the throne, Prince Rhelfa nh' Rhau nhi' Saeindt of the House of Geal was not young, but he was young to his rule, having only assumed the throne two years previous at the demise of his long-lived and generally well-regarded and competent sire, Prince Rhau. In appearance, he was neat and trim. Not a tall man, rather than robes of state, he wore a simple tailored suit of trousers and jacket of gray Gealollhaerii'n wool, and had a full head of black hair, though much of his goatee was white. A known scholar, Rhelfa had penned several dozen treatises on horticulture and was widely credited with the breeding of a species of apple that would produce a decent fruit under semi-arid conditions. According to what Ghorn had learned of him before the fall of Mhajhkaei, he had had no military training of any sort, had come to the throne after being well settled in life with young grandchildren, and had generally allowed his father's professional bureaucrats to govern with only gentle oversight, an arrangement that from all reports had functioned without difficulty.
As he marched at a regulated pace toward Rhelfa, with his honor guard making the same artificial pace behind, Ghorn let his eyes take in everything, memorizing the spaces, items, and locations of the hall as if it were a battlefield. When he stopped at the foot of the slope, he did not bow as he might once have. As a prince himself, albeit of a cadet branch of the Mhajhkaeirii'n ruling house, he was technically the equal of Prince Rhelfa, and it was imperative that he concede nothing at the outset.
"Greetings, Prince Rhelfa. I wish to express my gratitude for your quick agreement to this unannounced visit."
"You do all Gealollh an honor, Prince Ghorn." Rhelfa's voice was mild and unhurried, and his smile no more than polite. "It is not often that we are visited by the chief of all Principate forces ... nor by ships that sail upon the air in such a wondrous manner."
The Gealollhaerii prince clapped his hands and waiting servants ferried out an ornate armchair with a cushioned seat and back and placed it near the throne. "Please have a seat so that we might have our discussion in a more cordial manner."
"Thank you, Prince Rhelfa." As Ghorn moved forward and sat down, Hraval lined up the marines, forming two neat rows on the main floor just to the right of the Mhajhkaeirii'n prince.
Unbidden, the same servants produced two identical cherry side tables, whisked them into place beside Ghorn and Rhelfa, and placed a delicate, gold-rimmed goblet on each.
"May I offer you wine?" Prince Rhelfa inquired, obviously following a prepared agenda.
Ghorn smiled pleasantly. "That would be excellent."
A wine steward wearing white gloves to cradle a dusky bottle as if it were a sucking babe stepped forward and presented the date incised into the glass to Prince Rhelfa, who gave a perfunctory nod.
"This is the last bottle of the wine laid down in the fourth year of my father's reign. It is by far the best vintage that we have produced in more than a century."
The wine steward made quite a presentation of unsealing the bottle and extracting the cork. Then, with a flourish, he filled first his own prince's glass and then Ghorn's.
Prince Rhelfa immediately brought his goblet to his mouth and took a hearty swallow, almost gulping the wine.
As Ghorn raised his own goblet, he unobtrusively studied the man across from him. Did he detect nervousness there? The last time that he had taken wine with an uncertain ally, he had almost been killed. Without betraying his doubts, he brought the goblet to his lips and made the pretense of swallowing, but did not consume any of the beverage or even let it touch his skin. Then, he put his cup down unhurriedly and told the prince, "Marvelous flavor. Truly a fine vintage."
The monarch of Gealollh froze for a second, then nodded, watching the Prince-Commander intently. "We are justly proud of our vintners."
Though the Gealollhaerii'n's voice remained steady, there was something in it that convinced Ghorn that the man was indeed nervous and appeared to be anticipating some action. His suspicions flaring with sudden intensity, Ghorn made to rise, but felt a sudden constriction and found that he could not move his hands or move his legs. His own armor and clothing had stiffened to bind him in place.
Before he could shout a warning, crossbowmen wearing the colors of Gealollh rose from concealment in the balconies above and fired down at Hraval and the Mhajhkaeirii marines, and every single one of them fell with hardly a sound, pierced through with multiple shafts.
FORTY-SIX
2nd year of the His Glorious Reign
The Princedom of Gealollh
When the chief Phaelle'n monk and his two companions appeared from the concealed alcove to the right of his throne, Rhelfa told him stiffly, "Brother, all has been done as you required."
The monk pushed his hood back to reveal his ancient face and smiled, his strange gaze wandering without seeming direction. "You have done well, brother. I am sure that the odd affliction that has recently stricken your wife and sons will soon pass."
Rhelfa said nothing, holding his anger in check. He had done what he must do.
The monk raised a hand to a make a gesture and the ensorcelled Mhajhkaeirii prince, his face flint, floated up and sailed across the chamber to face him.
"Greetings, Prince-Commander Ghorn," the monk declared. "I am Waleck of Gh'emhoa and we have much to discuss."
The Key to Magic continues in Book IV: Emperor
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
Key to Magic 03 King Page 31
