Covenants (v2.1)

by Lorna Freeman

  “But you’ve been accused,” Lord Esclaur said, “and the Maggot—”

  “Magus,” Laurel said.

  “—does not have Rabbit, so will there be war?”

  “Why?” Laurel opened his eyes wide at the lordling. “I kept my word in bringing Lord Rabbit back to the Border and, regardless what Kareste has said, I did not meddle with his apprentice’s bindings. It was the Fyrst’s decision to remove him from the Magus’ care.” Laurel shook his head. “Killing birds. Shameful!”

  “And you had nothing to do with it,” Javes murmured.

  “Oh, no. The Magus managed to do that all on his own,” Laurel said, showing his eyeteeth. He then looked at me and his grin faded. “Rabbit—”

  “Why don’t you want Iversterre back, Ambassador?” Chancellor Berle asked.

  Laurel sighed once more and, looking away from me to the chancellor, shrugged. “We don’t need it.” He saw the incredulous stares aimed at him. “We don’t. We feed ourselves and export our surplus, we have thriving industries, we have a brisk trade with the Qarant, among others. We prosper, honored folk. War tends to change that.”

  “Even if you win?” Javes asked, his voice dry.

  “We won the last time and it nearly pulled us apart, squabbling over who gets what.” Laurel shook his head again, beads clacking and feathers fluttering. “No, no, and three times no. We do not need you or your land. We have more than enough here.” His ears flicked back. “Besides, all we have to do is wait because, as you turn fae, you will surely need us.”

  I stood up while everyone was busy working on that statement. “It’s been a long day, sirs. I’m going to retire.” I saluted and headed for a doorway, chosen at random.

  “Lieutenant—” Suiden began.

  “Lad—” Uncle Havram started.

  “Rabbit,” Laurel said. He glanced at the others and then back at me as I looked over my shoulder. “We have two weeks to prepare for your appearing before the High Council.”

  I turned back all the way around to stare at the Faena. “What do you mean?”

  Laurel rose from his chair as he indicated Javes. “The honored captain was correct that this is only a reprieve until Kareste appeals the Fyrst’s decision before the Council. We have to show them that you do not need a master.”

  “Won’t they care about the dead bird?” Suiden asked.

  “The Magus has many friends on the Council,” Laurel replied. “Who knows how they will react.”

  “Especially since they charged you, Ambassador, to bring his apprentice back to him,” Chancellor Berle said, her wry smile sweeping her face. “I know that it would irk me tremendously to have my directives so mangled.” She finished her fruit and, picking up a linen napkin from the table, wiped her hands. “What a fine line you’ve trod, promising something to everybody. Tell me, Ambassador, did King Jusson know about all this?”

  “No,” Laurel said, his eyes narrowed on the chancellor.

  “So succinct!” Chancellor Berle marveled. “It is amazing what you can find out with a simple question, and yet here’s another secret unknown by our illustrious king.”

  “But you didn’t know either, honored chancellor,” Laurel said. She opened her mouth but Laurel spoke over her. “A ruler can only be as good as his advisors, and while your king may have been unwise in those he surrounded himself with in the past, I think that he has become aware of his, hmm, lack.”

  The Faena bowed and in a couple of strides caught up with me, grabbing me by my arm.

  “I have sworn a solemn vow to your honored sire and dam, Lord Rabbit, to see you home, safe.” He propelled me towards a doorway. “We have more than enough time before dinner for a lesson.”

  “I’m not in the mood to bloody meditate,” I said, trying to free my arm. I dug my heels into the carpet and Laurel, letting go, turned an annoyed face to me.

  “Do you want to be given back to the Magus?” he demanded.

  “No—” I started.

  “Go and attend to your lessons, Lieutenant,” Suiden said from behind me. “That’s an order.”

  “Politics, sir?” I asked.

  “Survival, Lieutenant,” Suiden replied. “Both yours and the kingdom’s.”

  “But—” I began.

  “Obey your captain, lad,” Uncle Havram said from where he sat. “Unless you have a better suggestion. Do you?”

  I stared at my uncle, frantically trying to think of something, anything, but after a moment, I lowered my head and shook it. “No, sir.”

  Laurel reached over and took my arm once more, and led me to one of the far end rooms next to the fireplace.

  “Jeffen, go with them,” Captain Suiden said.

  Chapter Sixty

  We passed through a small antechamber to another curtained doorway into the main sleeping room. It was just like the rest of the keep, austerely elegant, with a massive four-poster bed big enough to sleep a village, draped with curtains to shut out the chill night air. There were more colorful rugs, a fireplace complete with its own peat fire and set of chairs in front of it, a table with a vase of flowers, a washstand, a freestanding full-length mirror, and a huge clothespress, which, when I opened it, revealed a pomander, many drawers, and a clothes rack. I turned back to the room and the thought went through the back of my mind as I stared at all the fine wood that the Fyrst of Elanwryfindyll was an extremely wealthy elf.

  We sat at the table and stared at each other for a moment.

  “So,” Laurel finally rumbled, removing the vase to the floor. “You did right in the Fyrst’s hall.” He reached into his pouch and pulled out a sack of small river stones. “Now let’s examine what you did, and how you did it.” It was the most grueling workout I ever had, even as a new recruit in His Majesty’s Royal Army. By the time we were finished, I was physically aching all over. During my lesson, haunts wandered in and out of the chamber, but Honor Ash, Basel, and the unicorn all stayed for the entire time as the Faena and I faced each over the table. The room had darkened and was lit only by the fire when Javes came in to call a halt.

  “The chamberlain is come to tell us that the dinner hour is approaching, so give it a rest,” the captain said.

  At Laurel’s nod, I had the candles relight and the circling stones drop into Laurel’s paw one by one. I then pushed away from the table, my legs wobbling like I had run up a mountainside carrying all my gear and my horse on my back. I stretched, working the kinks out, while becoming aware of the muted commotion out in the common area. Judging from the sounds and voices, Groskin and the rest of the ships’ officers had arrived, along with the embassy staff and our luggage. The curtain parted again and one of the keep’s servants entered carrying a large ewer of hot rose-water from the kettle out in the main room, followed by others carrying Groskin’s, Jeff’s and my footlockers.

  Javes lifted his quiz glass at the steaming water. “The chamberlain was kind enough to give us a hint that we wash well, as the elves do not much appreciate the, ah, aroma associated with ripe humans.”

  The first servant put the ewer down on the washstand and went out, followed by the others who then all returned with more ewers, basins and soap. One went over to the clothespress and, opening a drawer, pulled out towels.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, stripping off my tabard and shirt. After I was dressed, Laurel gestured for me to stand before him. I stared at him, then down at the blue and white ribbons he held in one paw—the colors of the House of Iver. “King Jusson sent them.”

  “Did he know that the Magus sent you?” I asked, still staring at the ribbons.

  “No,” Laurel said. “He did not.” He gestured once more and I slowly moved to stand before him. He gathered up my hair and began to deftly braid it, weaving the ribbons into the plait. “He sent these to make sure that everyone here understood that you were his, sworn to his House, Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan.”

  I didn’t respond and when he finished braiding my hair, he produced from his pouch sapphire cuff links. �
��From honored Moraina,” he murmured as he inserted them into my shirt cuffs. He reached back in and brought out a sapphire and diamond cluster that he pinned to my tabard, adjusting my braid to make sure the sparkle of the jewels was visible. “She also wanted to make sure that everyone knew that you had her favor, Rabbit Two Trees’son.”

  “Smashing pin and links, Lieutenant,” Javes said as we joined everyone in the common room, the haunts tagging behind us.Captain Suiden said nothing, but raised his brows at me while Uncle Havram silently whistled and Lord Esclaur lifted his quiz glass.

  “A dragon’s favor,” Laurel said.

  “Will it matter, Ambassador?” Chancellor Berle asked, also appraising the jewels. Her brows came together when she saw the ribbons in my hair.

  “Yes, it matters a lot, Chancellor,” Laurel said. “It shows who Rabbit is—and who is his.” He looked over at Honor, Basel and the rest of the haunts. “If you would please stay here, honored ones. Having the reminder of your murders follow us in to dinner could be—detrimental.”

  I blinked as a ripple of nods went through the ghosts, and everyone else stared wide-eyed at the Faena—even Suiden. Lieutenant Falkin’s hand twitched as he started to bless himself.

  Laurel gave a faint smile. “I’ve the earth aspect and so I can ask—as long as it’s only asking.” He cast a glance over us and then, satisfied with our appearance, bowed, indicating the chamberlain waiting patiently at the door. “If we are ready?”

  Jeff was led away to the barracks to have dinner with the other soldiers and the rest of us trooped after me chamberlain as he escorted us back to His Grace’s great hall, now filled with tables. All eyes snapped to us as we entered, the muted roar of conversation dropping to near silence while the chamberlain neatly separated out the embassy staff and sent them to the lower tables with the scaff and raff of petty officialdom and high ranking clerks. The ships’ officers and Lieutenants Groskin and Falkin were sent to the middle tables with the minor elfin nobles. All eyes at his table snapped to Falkin’s northern fairness as the first officer approached, and I saw frowns form on several faces. I started to follow, worried about hostilities over soup, but the chamberlain stopped me and I was herded with the rest towards the front of the hall. I then tried to sit with Captain Javes, Lord Esclaur, and Doyen Allwyn at the table right below the Fyrst’s, but once more was stopped and firmly guided, along with Laurel, Vice Admiral Havram, Captain Suiden, and Chancellor Berle, to the raised platform where the Fyrst’s high table was placed. Rather stunned, I sat down next to Captain Suiden, wondering who had been dispossessed to make way for us.

  “Do not worry, Rabbit Two Trees’son,” the Fyrst said across Suiden, who was seated on His Grace’s left. “None will challenge you for taking their place.” His brows rose as he took in my ribbons and jewelry.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” I murmured as I shook my napkin out and laid it across my lap. Leaning out a little, I could see Laurel, Uncle Havram, and Chancellor Berle seated interspersed with the Fyrst’s great eorls on the other side of His Grace. While Laurel was quietly conversing with the eorl next to him, Havram and Berle were staring at the female elf seated at Loran’s immediate right. Concerned about their impoliteness, I tried to catch either the chancellor’s or my uncle’s attention. Then the female elf turned and I found myself staring also. Heigh-ho.

  “Let me present you to my wife,” the Fyrst said. “Her Grace, Molyu.”

  Her face just a little fuller than her husband’s, Molyu had the normal black hair, winged brows and high cheekbones. What she didn’t have were the typical black eyes— hers were gold, and I felt my spine tighten. I also felt a thump on my side. I gave a very respectful nod.

  “Your Grace.”

  Molyu nodded back. “Prince Suiden, Rabbit Two Trees’son,” she murmured in a startling rich contralto.

  There were sounds of scraping as the chairs to my left were filled.

  “So this is the human who has Magus Kareste all in a lather,” a light voice said and I looked away from Her Grace to see an elf with a mane of his black hair sitting down on my right. He turned a young face towards me and I wondered just how old he was.

  “My Enchanter, Wyln,” the Fyrst said.

  Suiden and I murmured a greeting, while I fought not to edge my chair away.

  “I understand that you don’t eat meat, Two Trees’son,” His Grace said, reclaiming my attention.

  “No, Your Grace,” I said. A servant came by with hot cloths soaked in lemon water. I took one, wiped my hands, and dropped it in the basket carried by another servant following behind.

  “I have informed Cook and she has prepared special dishes.” The Fyrst dropped his used cloth in the basket. “I hope that you’ll like them.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m sure I will.” I folded my hands in my lap and concentrated on breathing.

  “So, the king of Iversterre calls you cousin?” Wyln asked, a winged brow rising. Several servants appeared with plates of hot bread, setting them down before us.

  “Yes, honored Enchanter.” I waited as the Fyrst helped himself, then Wyln and Suiden, before breaking off a piece of bread for myself. I dropped it onto my bread plate, my fingers stinging from the heat. “Sixty-four lines to the throne.”

  “An elfin king, so the Faena said, Wyln,” His Grace mused. I said nothing and he looked at me, once more taking in the ribbons. “Is this not true, Rabbit Two Trees’son?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. He looks a little like your Eorl Commander.” I looked out over the hall, and saw Eorl Pellan sitting at the table right beneath us. He must have felt my eyes on him because he raised his head, staring back at me.

  “Yet you, his close cousin, aren’t elfin at all,” Wyln pointed out, also looking at the House of Iver’s colors. More servants appeared in the hall with tureens and I sniffed. Fish soup. “This is very interesting as I have diligently searched my lineage, Two Trees’son, but have been unable to find a human lurking anywhere in it.”

  “Yes, honored Enchanter, it is odd, but I don’t know why that’s so.” I shifted out of the way so that the servant could fill my bowl, hoping my stomach wouldn’t embarrass me with subterranean grumbles.

  “You did speculate, Lieutenant, that His Majesty being elfin may have something to do with inheritance and land-law,” Captain Suiden said. He caught my panicked glance at him and gave a faint smile. “This was after Trooper Basel’s funeral.”

  “Oh.” I vaguely remembered. “Yes, sir.”

  “Indeed?” The Fyrst took a spoonful of soup and nodded. A sigh went through the dining hall and everyone started to eat, the cheerful din of talk and spoons against porcelain filling the room. “But why should the king of Iversterre be an elf at all?”

  My mouth full of soup and bread, I glanced again at Captain Suiden, who gave another faint smile. “Answer His Grace, Lieutenant.”

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. “Yes, sir.” I looked past my captain to the Fyrst. “The people of Iversterre are becoming fae, Your Grace.”

  The Fyrst’s spoon slowly went down into his bowl. “What?”

  Molyu, who’d been talking with the eorl on her right, broke off her conversation and turned her head, her gold eyes wide, while Wyln made a slight choking noise as if he swallowed wrong, then started to cough.

  “Sro Laurel thinks it’s because Iversterre was once part of the Border and the land is remaking them in its own image.”

  Suiden’s smile came back. “Whatever the cause, my entire troop translated, Your Grace. As Captain Javes is so fond of pointing out, he turned into a wolf while I was a dragon.” He tilted his head, reminding me of Dragoness Moraina when she was about to set a poser. “Haven’t you wondered at Rabbit being a wizard—and a very powerful one at that—with him only being one generation removed from Iversterre? A land of no magic?”

  The Fyrst’s face was still. He then seemed to remember his food and raised the spoon to his mouth. “No, I can’t say that I did, Your Highness.” He fin
ished his bread, then gave a faint smile himself. “The entire human kingdom turning fae?” The smile widened. “How ironic.” He broke off another piece of bread. “How absolutely, wonderfully ironic.” He shot a glance at the captain. “And you, Your Highness? You’ve become a dragon?”

  “Apparently so, Your Grace.”

  “How? You weren’t born in Iversterre nor in the Border.”

  Suiden shrugged. “I don’t know, Sro Fyrst. Perhaps living for twenty years in Iversterre was enough.” He finished his soup. “But most assuredly I was—”

  “Still is,” I muttered very softly to my bowl.

  “—a dragon.” Suiden turned to me. “What kind did you say, Lieutenant?”

  I raised my eyes to meet the captain’s eyes now glinting at me. He heard. “Obsidian, sir.”

  The Fyrst’s face went blanker than normal, while his eyes turned watchful. “Obsidian.” Wyln made another noise and reached for his wine goblet, clearing his throat, while Molyu’s wide gaze shifted to Suiden.

  “You saw this, Two Trees’son?” Her Grace asked, leaning a little out beyond the Fyrst to look at me. “You saw the translations?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Even before we physically changed, he saw,” Suiden said, once more smiling. He returned to his soup, finishing it. “Sro Laurel said that Lieutenant Rabbit has the gift of seeing true.”

  “Yes?” The Fyrst’s black eyes fixed on mine. “Beyond the obvious?”

  “It does makes one wonder, Your Grace,” Suiden said, leaning to the side to allow the servant to remove his empty bowl, “about Rabbit’s intense abhorrence of his old master.”

  “Yes, it does,” Wyln said, having washed away all obstructions in his throat. He took another sip of wine. “So, tell me, Two Trees’son, you stopped a djinn storm? How?”

  “I became the wind, honored Enchanter.”

  This time Wyln’s goblet slowly descended to the table. “The wind.”

  “It talks to you, doesn’t it, Lieutenant?” Suiden asked.

  “Yes, sir.”