“I understand that you have a banking agreement with the Qarant, Ambassador,” one said after we’d been introduced. He peered at Laurel over the edge of his glass as he took a swallow, and I saw a tortoise peeking out of his shell.
“No, honored sir,” Laurel replied. “Not a banking agreement. We’re trading partners.”
“I see,” the tortoise said. His head extended further. “What do you trade?”
“All kinds of goods. Smithery and other crafts. Some grain, fruit. But mainly textiles.” Laurel pointed to the woven strips decorating his staff. “Cloth, rugs, and the like. There are some who say our carpets rival Perdans.”
“Indeed.” The tortoise’s head was fully extended and he had risen up on all four legs. “I would like to speak with you further on this, Ambassador—”
“Talking business at the king’s reception, my lord?” Lord Gherat said from behind us, his smile not reaching his eyes.
I expected the tortoise to snap back into his shell, but instead his head lowered and his mouth gaped open, showing powerful jaws as the lord smiled back. “Why, Gherat, I’m amazed at how you always manage to find us out. Are you going to tattle?”
“Perhaps.” Gherat turned to me, putting his back to Laurel and Javes. “However, I’m here to bring Lord Rabbit to his cousin the king before he faints from the heat.” He smiled again, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “We don’t want, ah, Sweet Cheeks here falling down and getting any more splinters.”
“Yes, my lord.” I waited a moment, then raised my brows at him. “The king, my lord?” I smiled back.
“When you’re ready.”
Javes gave a deep laugh and Laurel chuffed as Gherat’s smile and crinkles disappeared. Without saying anything more, the Lord Treasurer turned and moved into the throng and, with a brief bow to my companions, I followed.
Chapter Thirty-one
Lord Gherat took me to another side room, going past two guards to rap at the door, which was opened by another guard. “Let him in!” a voice called and the guard moved back. Stepping to the threshold, I saw Jusson sitting on a divan surrounded by lordlings. Standing behind him was Lord Commander Thadro. He turned an impassive face towards me. Apparently I’d not impressed him when he saw me in the receiving line.
On the other hand, Jusson was smiling. “Come on in, Rabbit.” Squashing the thought that I’d rather be reliving my first week of training with my old sergeant, I entered. Hearing the door close, I looked behind me but I had entered alone—Gherat had stayed on the outside.
“Come in, cousin, and sit down,” Jusson said.
I found an empty chair in front of the divan and sat. Jusson waved at someone (who looked like one of the major-domos) who poured wine, this time dark red, into a glass goblet. I watched as the outside of the glass beaded with water.
“Have you ever had bloodwine, Rabbit?” Jusson asked as the servant handed me the glass.
“No, Your Majesty.” There was silence, and then I realized that was my cue. I took a sip and the cold flavors of red wine, oranges, lemons, limes and honey exploded in my mouth. “It’s very good, Your Majesty.” I took another sip and set the glass down on a side table. Jusson raised a brow and I recognized another cue. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, it’s just that—” The other brow went up and I laughed. “It’s just that I’ve already had several glasses of wine and nothing much to eat this evening.”
Jusson waved again and a plate appeared before me.
“No meat, am I correct?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I wondered who the royal spies were.
“You have permission to address me by my name in this room, cousin.”
“Thank you, Jusson.”
Jusson smiled and settled back into the divan, watching me eat. This time it was my turn to feel like the fattened Festival goose. Jusson chuckled and I looked up in mid-chew. He grinned at me. “Tell me, Rabbit—such an interesting name! You look nothing like one. How did you come by it? Is it a nickname?”
I swallowed. “No, sire—”
His brow rose again.
“—Jusson. My ma—” Someone snickered.
“Lady Hilga,” he said.
“Yes, sire—Jusson. She said it was because I was so quick and could hide in plain sight, though how she could tell that on my Nameday two weeks after my birth I don’t know.” I took a sip of my wine. “I figure it was because after six children, she and my da—”
“Lord Rafe.” There were more snickers.
“They now go by Lark and Two Trees.” I took another sip of wine. “Anyway, I think by the time they got to me, they ran out of names.”
Jusson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Six brothers and sisters? Such a large family.”
“There are eight of us total, cousin. I’ve a little sister.”
“My word. What’s she named? Squirrel?” one of the lordlings asked, and the others laughed.
I said nothing, thinking of how the lovely Freston ladies might respond to an ankle chain like Sro Kenalt’s. The Lord Commander glanced at the lordling, then returned his impassive stare to me.
“So, what’s your sister’s name, cousin?”
I gave the king a slow blink. “Sparrow, sire.”
“Does she sing?”
That caught me by surprise. The image of my sister at her first Solemn Assembly singing the invocation arose— and how even crabby old Rises With The Dawn joined in at the fiat. “Yes, sire.”
“Then perhaps your, ah, ma was right in naming you so,” the king said. The lordlings snickered again.
“Yes, sire.”
“Jusson, Rabbit. Or cousin.”
“Yes, cousin.”
The king smiled again, his black eyes intent. “So, anyway, Rabbit, tell me. Why does my cousin have on his hand the same marking the Faena cat does—a marking that he didn’t have a couple of days ago?”
My mouth parted as I stared at him.
“Answer my question, Rabbit.”
“Your Majesty—”
“You weary me, cousin, with your insistence on my titles.”
“Yes, Jusson. Tell me, how old are you?”
Jusson blinked and sat back. “What does my age have to do with anything?”
“I’d imagine that it has a lot to do with everything, cousin.” Jusson frowned and I watched the gold in his black eyes flare. Stubborn idiot, Laurel rumbled. Go ahead and tell the man what he wants to know.
Not man, I thought. Dark elf.
Laurel’s rumble turned into a growl. Man, elf—he is king here. Tell him before he cuts your idiot head off. He roared the last words and I winced. Dropping my eyes down, I saw I still held the plate. I set it aside and stared at my palm.
“I nearly killed a man,” I said, “so Laurel Faena placed the rune there to keep me from losing control again.”
“How did you almost kill him?”
“I lost my temper and summoned something I didn’t know I could.”
“Witch,” one of the lordlings muttered, and started to make a sign against evil.
Jusson gave the lordling a narrowed look and he stopped midgesture. “The doyen who traveled with him has attested to Lord Rabbit’s orthodoxy. Do you dispute it?”
“Uh, no sire,” the lordling said as I blinked at the realization that the king had spoken with Doyen Allwyn.
Jusson turned his attention back to me. “However, it’s no wonder people are unsettled, cousin. The entire city shook with thunderclaps a couple of days ago when you first took—sick. Even now I can ‘feel’ whatever it is hanging dense about you. Then yesterday I received a message from”—he picked up a sheet of paper that was next to him on the divan—”Magus Kareste, who writes that a runaway apprentice”—Jusson scanned down the page—”has been traced to the Royal City. He says that it would behoove both Iversterre and the young man if we found him and returned him to his master.” Jusson lowered the paper and looked at me. “For this apprentice is untrained and, as he comes in
to his powers, can cause unwitting harm to himself and those around him.” I suddenly remembered that it was rather important to breathe.
“Well, cousin, what do you say to that?” Jusson laid the paper beside him on the divan.
I took another breath and tried a smile. “Kareste tends to exaggerate.”
“Who is this Magus?”
“A mage, sire.”
“A mage.” The king stared at me. “And you were apprenticed to him?”
My smile disappeared. “Yes, I was.”
“But you’ve broken your indentures?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And now you’re coming into your ‘power’?”
“Yes, according to Laurel Faena, I am.”
“And therefore you’ve become dangerous?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh? You lost your temper and tried to kill someone. You don’t call that dangerous?”
I suppressed a shrug, looking away from Jusson. “I’d been provoked, sire.”
“We are aware of Lieutenant Slevoic, Rabbit.”
I blinked at the royal “we.”
“Look at me!”
My head snapped around.
“Such stubborn arrogance, even to your king.” A different kind of frown passed over his face. Then I realized he was smiling again. “You put me in mind of your grandfather, Rabbit. I remember him standing before my mother the queen with the same look, like the world would shape itself according to his will.” The king shook his head. “And it very often did.” I wondered why Jusson had reached back to my grandda as, from what I saw, my uncle and I looked as father and son.
“Your uncle Maceal has his papa’s physical looks and a measure of conceit. But he missed out on something.” Jusson looked hard at me. “And I know now where it all went.” There was muted laughter and my eyes shifted to the lordlings again. The laughter died.
“They bother you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Their wit does not agree with me, cousin.”
King Jusson settled back against the divan and sighed, folding his hands over his stomach. Part of me noted that the glitter had disappeared from his eyes, and let out a relieved breath. The other part shoved my relief far down.
Jusson gave a short laugh. “Determined not to give an ell, are you?” He sighed again. “The ‘squirrel’ was a joke, Rabbit. Just like the major in the officers’ mess.” I gave a start at the king’s mention of the practical joke of that morning.
“Perhaps a little careless, a little tasteless. But no real ill intent. Even the ‘witch’ was more fear than anything else. I would think that after three years of Slevoic, you’d know what malice looked like.” Now part of me was feeling rather small as I shifted in my chair. I did know what malice looked like and Jusson was right, it hadn’t happened here.
“As king, Rabbit, you very quickly learn which battles you fight and which aren’t worth the effort. It seems that somehow you didn’t. Though one would think that you would’ve had to with six older brothers and sisters, just in self-defense.”
“And five years under Lieutenant Groskin, sire,” Jusson’s Lord Commander said, unexpectedly. Startled, I looked up and met his gray blue gaze, and to my astonishment, he winked.
This time the king laughed. “Yes, indeed, Thadro.” His laughter faded as he stared at me. “Well?”
I dropped my eyes to the king’s briefly, then looked down again, hunching over my hand. “You’re right, sire— Jusson. It’s just that—”
“I am going to command that you remove those words from your speech, Rabbit.”
“Yes, cousin.”
Jusson sighed. “Well, tell me. It’s just what?”
“I don’t know what’s safe anymore.” I marveled that I’d admitted that as I ran a finger over the rune.
“I see,” Jusson said.
It was quiet as I sat tracing the rune in my palm. I remembered something from my apprentice days before I had bolted: once for memory, twice for witness, three times to establish. I finished my third tracing and felt the rune flare warm across my palm.
“Show me, cousin.”
I held out my hand and Jusson grasped it, pulling it to him. He bent over and traced the rune with his own finger and it grew warmer. He watched it shimmer for a moment, then, releasing me, sat back and picked up the letter. “If I were a cruel man, I would tell you that I needed to think on this and decide in a day or two. Or a week. But I am not cruel—at least, not unnecessarily so. I am also not inclined to force a kinsman back to someone he has fled, indentured or not, untrained mage or not, and so I will deny this request.” A look of revulsion crossed his face as he set the paper aside again. “Besides, the Magus had bespelled the bird he used to send the message so that it wouldn’t rest nor stop to eat until it reached me. It died in my hand.” His brows met as he stared at me, the gold bright around the black of his eyes. “You will remain with your troop, cousin, continuing in all the offices that you hold, honoring all the oaths you have made. So sworn?”
The rune flared once more as someone gasped and gasped again. Realizing it was me, I bit my lip hard and drew blood. “Yes.” It came out as a sob so I swallowed and tried again. “So sworn, Your Majesty.” Another sob leaked out. “Fiat.”
Chapter Thirty-two
I staggered to the carriage that one of the royal majordomo twins had waiting at a side entrance so I could avoid the reception crowds and, on the king’s command, go home and rest. The majordomo had also gathered Laurel and Captain Javes, and was off to find Captain Suiden. With one look at my face, the two of them remained quiet in the presence of the coachman. The majordomo returned quickly, guiding Suiden, who had his arm flung around his cousin Kenalt’s shoulder both in familial affection and for balance’ sake. Both of them were singing sea ditties sotto voce so that, as Suiden told us, they didn’t wake the djinn that slept in the rocks and crevices along the coastline. “If they’re awakened, they bring storms, Sroene.”
Sro Kenalt nodded several times. “Yes. Destroy ships.” He lifted a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
The majordomo had taken off once more and now returned with Jeff and our other outrider. The three of them helped Suiden climb into the carriage, while Kenalt supervised. Despite that, we were soon all aboard and ahorse, the coachman snapped the reins and we took off. I’d expected Suiden to fall asleep but he stayed awake, demonstrating with his sword belt all the different sailors’ knots.
When we arrived at the embassy, I slipped off to my own room—where I discovered that the furnishers had been there too, moving in bunk beds for four. However, I also discovered that Groskin had moved out, taking not only his gear, but Jeff’s and the other trooper’s too. The trooper gave me a side glance before leaving; Jeff, however, stood in the middle of the room for a few moments. He then stripped down to his smalls and, choosing a top bunk, curled up on its bare mattress. I was too weary to feel much of anything, except to think that Groskin’d have an interesting time explaining to Suiden what he’d done, especially with the head the captain was going to have tomorrow.
For the first time in days I was able to get up the following morning without someone hanging over me, and I savored it. Jeff was already gone and so, after dressing, I went down by myself into the officers’ mess and stopped. It was also the first time I’d been in the officers’ mess since it had been furnished. I stared about, seeing the same quiet elegance that was in the captains’ office. There were round tables, dark brown against the white walls and polished to a mirror finish, with high-backed, intricately carved chairs. On each table was a vase with fresh-picked flowers from the courtyard, with place settings of silverware, linen napkins, crystal glasses, porcelain teacups with matching saucers. The courtyard doors were open and I could see tables and chairs out on the trellised patio, though these seemed to be made out of wrought iron painted white. I sat at a table and Basel immediately emerged from the kitchen.
“Good morning
, Lieutenant,” he said, beaming. He filled my glass with orange juice, poured tea into my cup, and then, after hustling back into the kitchen, reappeared with plates piled high with food that he set before me. “When you’re finished, the captains want to see you, sir.”
So much for lingering over a pot of tea. I sighed and thanked him, starting in on my eggs. After a moment, I realized that he hadn’t left and looked up. Basel gave me one of the goofiest smiles I’d ever seen, even on him, and did a little bow. “I made sure the eggs were fresh, sir. Went to the market first thing this morning to get them.”
“Uh, thank you, Basel. And it’s just ‘Rabbit.’ Please.” Basel’s smile got goofier. “The fruit is also fresh-picked this morning.” He took the cloth he held and wiped a smudge off the table. “Just let me know, sir, if you need anything else.” He bowed again and, backing away, nearly fell over the table behind him. He teetered on one foot, caught his balance and bowed once more, still grinning as he went backwards into the kitchen door.
The relayed command loomed larger than trying to figure out why Basel was fawning worse than usual, so I finished my meal quickly and hurried to the captains’ office—only to run a gauntlet of smartly snapped salutes, elaborate bows and greetings of “I give you good morning,” and “Grace to you, Lord Rabbit.” With everyone wearing Basel’s same goofy smile. It should have been a short walk down the hall, but it seemed to take forever to reach the captains’ office, my back and arm twinging from all the return bowing and saluting. I knocked on the door and heard Javes bid me enter. “Shut the door behind you, Lieutenant,” Javes said. I saw Suiden sitting behind his desk, and did so very softly.
“Sit.” Javes waited until I seated myself at a chair placed midway between his and Suiden’s desks. “We have a problem, Lieutenant. It seems that word of your—marking has leaked out and now the Lord Commander is being pressured to take away your commission and discharge you from the army.”
One guess as to who leaked it.
“Groskin.” I sighed. “I’m not surprised, sir. He moved his and everybody else’s gear out of our room last night.” Feeling my own headache starting, I rubbed a knuckle between my brows. “The king also knew about it.”
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