She reached up and touched one of his hands. “My One, I am delegating.”
“I must see you do a dozen trivial errands a day.”
She sighed. “For every errand I do, there are ten others being done by my maids and stewards. There’s a lot to do. Not all of it is the wedding. You must know the mess that Hecate’s forces made in the south. There’s reparations and all manner of details. Four fifths of the royal family simply disappeared. The people need some reassurance after all that’s happened.”
He nodded. “I know. I’ve been going on my share of reassurance missions. I’m glad your father knows me well enough to keep it to the ranger corps and border guards. I don’t mix well with merchants and nobles.”
She turned in his grip, leaned into him, and gave him another warm kiss. “You’ll have to learn eventually, my One. Not so long from now you’re going to be a Prince Conjugal of Malan. That felt marvelous, I think I can get through the rest of the day.” She hesitantly disentangled herself from him and picked up her staff. She started patting her hair and garments into place.
A prince. He would never get used to the idea. It simply didn’t fit his image of himself. He’d always seen himself as a simple man of simple means. Of course, that was before the garmtur changed his life. As he stared into Sarai’s glowing violet eyes he knew that as much as the nola power had changed him, his love for this sometimes surly, always passionate, royal lady had affected him far more profoundly.
He rose and gave her a hug. “There was something else you wanted to tell me, right? It wasn’t just the Maestro.”
She smiled and touched his cheek. Her smile faded. “It’s Daena.”
“Daena?” His brow furrowed. “Everything I’ve heard is what a model court lady she has become.”
Sarai pursed her lips. “Oh, to be sure, my sister is a superb coach and Daena is a brilliant girl. Their behavior has been exemplary, which is exactly what made me suspicious.”
Bannor rubbed his forehead. He understood the words, but not what she was getting at. “So?”
“Coormeer. That’s where they decided to misbehave.”
“Coormeer? That’s three hundred leagues away, I see Janai and Daena in court every day, how could they…”
“My One,” she gave his cheek a firm pat. “Think. We found out that Janai has mage training, a fact she had been concealing to get out of doing service in the militia. Daena can teleport. I’m certain of it. If she didn’t already know how, Janai probably taught her. We both know the child’s potential. She only needs to be shown the ways to use it.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, them teleporting around certainly isn’t out of the question. I just don’t get the connection. Why, Coormeer? Isn’t that where Lord Duquesne, that fop that gave us so much trouble, came from? I think you’d be happy she was giving them a hard time.”
“Yes, Duquesne was a lord of Coormeer. Our kingdoms are on good terms with each other. In fact, Janai holds the title of Duchess in Coormeer from her marriage to the Duke’s son. She owns a lot of land there.”
“Okay.” He still didn’t get it. Was there something he was missing? “And they’re causing some kind of mischief there? Something you can point to?”
Sarai’s chin dropped and she bit her lip. “Not yet. I have some unconfirmed rumors is all. Things that have come to me through Laramis, you know his family owns a large vineyard there, right?”
“Seems I’ve heard that.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?” He paused, as the possibilities turned in his head. “You want me to spy on them don’t you? I’m the only one that can track Daena.”
“Darling, ‘spy’ is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as protecting our interests in that region. We wouldn’t want some kind of incident.”
“I still don’t understand why you even care if the two of them take over the place. What does it matter to you?”
“First of all, I think Daena is a dangerous weapon, and I think Janai should be discouraged from using her like a thug to intimidate her enemies. I also don’t think it’s setting a very good example for a young and impressionable girl.”
He frowned. “I agree with you on both points. That’s not the reason you want me to spy on them. You’re just hacked that your sister is off having fun in another kingdom without you.”
“Bannor,” she thumped him in the shoulder, an indignant expression on her face. “It’s not that at all.”
“Did she steal your toys as a child or something? Is that why you’ve always got to uncover and unravel all her little plots? She’s not hurting anyone.”
Sarai raised her finger. “That is where you’re wrong. You are lucky. My sister likes you. You see only the face she shows you. People that get in her way get hurt—a lot. I think it best she be headed off before gets going too fast.”
“Going too fast, what, you think she really is going to try to take over Coormeer?”
Sarai pressed her lips to a line. “She already owns a quarter of the land there anyway. Why not the whole thing?”
“But you don’t know anything!” He thrust his hands into the air. “This is all just guessing.”
She nodded. “That’s why I want you to find out.” She kissed him on the nose. “Please, Darling. If they aren’t doing anything, then you were just checking up on them, right? No harm done.”
“No harm done,” he echoed. Bannor felt his stomach twist. “I suppose… On one condition though.”
“What’s that?”
“You come back to the chambers early tonight, and we eat a nice quiet meal together. I want it to be just you and me. No guests, no servants, just us and the fire. I miss you.”
She leaned on her staff and pushed out her lower lip. After a moment, she smiled. “Done. Six bells in our bed chambers.” She hopped up and kissed him on the nose. “Now, I have to fly to get everything done early.” She rushed off. “Bye.”
“Bye.” His voice trailed off as he watched her sway down the garden path. Why did he think this wouldn’t come out the way either of them expected?
* * *
Chapter Two
Subtle Confrontations
« ^ »
Savants? Yeah, I met some of them. Some tough customers, I only had to cross swords with a couple. It was too bad for them they were swinging for the wrong reasons. My job is to put a stop to bad guys; man, woman, god or savant—it’s all the same. If you break the laws of the Protectorate and Koass gives the thumbs down, you’n me will be havin a little chat. I only ask for your surrender once. After that—well, let’s just say our encounter gets less pleasant from there…
—Talorin “Tal” Falor, Beta Class Protectorate Enforcer
Mind swimming, Bannor left the Queen’s garden. Spy on Daena and Janai; sure he could do it. It wouldn’t be difficult at all. In the time since the war in Asgard, he’d practiced extensively with astral projection. He’d progressed to the point that he could even keep his physical body animate, and carry on a simple, if halting, conversation. It took ultimate concentration to be able to see and process information from two different locations at once, but it could be done.
He turned the corner and walked up the colonnade, admiring the statuettes, and hanging gardens that filled East sanctum, the ‘river side’ of the Malanian citadel. One thing the Elves always managed to do was make everything beautiful—even simple things. There was always a subtle nuance or sparkle that gave their art a unique and satisfying character. He had walked through East sanctum dozens of times and always marveled. Each time he seemed to find some new bit of sculpture, clever planting or wood-set that he hadn’t noticed before.
He drew of breath of the loamy perfumed air, moist with the spray from miniature waterfalls on either side of the run. Eyes heavy lidded, he relished the sound of gurgling water and the soft ring of wind chimes. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn’t want to spy on Daena and Janai.
Unlike his wife to be,
he really liked Janai. The second princess of Malan had always been good to him. She teased him from time to time, but it wasn’t mean-spirited. He wasn’t totally blind, he knew Sarai spoke the truth when she talked about the older princess having a mean streak. He’d seen it in action on a couple of occasions.
That still left him with choosing a proper course of action. He promised to find out if anything was going on in Coormeer. In his experience, sometimes the simplest plans worked the best.
He’d just ask.
***
He knew that Janai and Daena were often at Hill Court. Janai frequently chaired and adjudicated disputes there for Malan’s southern nobility. By coincidence, that same court looked out over a breathtaking view of the tree-shrouded city and catered some of the best wine and pastries served in the capital. After sampling some of the cook’s wares, it was no surprise to him that the plump princess held all of her negotiations and meetings in the large terraced amphitheatre. She could often be found on the third tier from the top, sipping wine and nibbling on pastries while handling her assigned negotiations and affairs of state.
He climbed the fern encrusted ramp that lead to the lowest level of the stone and wood terracing. He glanced up as a shadow fell over him. Overhead, a hodge-podge of braided tree limbs, silken canopies, carved rock and laced together snapping-slog shells shielded the enclosure from the elements. Though constructed of such diverse elements, the whole structure had a lofty ‘alive’ feel to it that human courts simply couldn’t duplicate.
At the top of the incline, he saluted Miracaar and Domanor, Hill Court’s formal sentries. Dressed in polished gold ring-mail and spotless white tabards, they stood like statues at the entry platform, only their silver eyes moved as they scrutinized the people filing into the court. The stony visages of both elves broke into smiles and they gestured him inside with their spears. While he wasn’t favored among the gentry, he was on good terms with most of the soldiers, guardsman and sentinels. His participation in the war with Hecate was well known, and apparently he’d impressed some of the elves that had been part of Irodee’s border resistance unit. It didn’t hurt being the chosen of princess Sarai who was highly regarded in Malan’s military because she worked her way up through the ranks anonymously.
He stopped by the taller of the two elves and leaned close for him to hear above the hubbub of people talking. “Praetor Domanor, have you seen Arminwen Janai, or her ward Lady Daena?”
The elf nodded. He spoke common with a halting lisp that bespoke rare use. “Two rings before the noon bell both of them were admitted, they have not left by my seeing.”
He thumped the elf on his armored shoulder. “Kala (thanks).”
Domanor nodded.
Bannor hopped up the steps two at a time and took the walkway that circled around Floor Amaggia. The main forum thronged with elves, humans, and dwarves all heatedly involved in negotiations, policymaking, and commerce. Having been a recluse most of his life, Bannor never really grasped the scope of what went on in the capitals of the various kingdoms throughout Sharikaar. After the war in Asgard, the first thing Sarai had done was take him on a tour of the legendary city of her birth. Even score-days later, he was still learning his way through all the merchant venues and the myriad public and private forums. The citadel itself was a labyrinth of halls, courts, and terraces larger than most cities. When first introduced to it all, the immensity and the complexity of it all had been mind-boggling. Even more stunning was the notion that he would be marrying into the ruling family and become involved in the administration and operation of this massive enterprise.
He bowed and nodded to ranking nobility as he crossed the second tier Floor Decongia and ambled up the steps to Floor Milmontage. For the most part, the nobles simply ignored him, though many times he heard some of the younger elf ladies tittering. His grasp of high tongue was still too weak to really understand what they found funny. Something about broad shoulders… How a joke could be had out of that, he didn’t know. Once, he’d repeated back one of the things he’d heard said to Sarai and asked her what it meant. She had simply growled that ‘it wasn’t funny’ and ‘not to repeat it’. In retrospect, he probably should have asked Janai instead. The elder princess didn’t take things quite as seriously as his wife-to-be.
Only a sprinkling of patrons were doing business on Milmontage and the guild-ruled Terrace Jhinkira. At the top of the ramp leading to Terrace Silcommon he caught a whiff of something that made him shudder to a stop. Center-point of the broad forum was a ring of clay ovens, grills, and tapped scale-bark casks that contained some of the finest beverages served in the city.
He inhaled again, filling his nostrils with the rich buttery scent of bread freshly pulled from the kiln. His mouth watered. How could anything smell that good? Velastra the baker was at it again. She was undoubtedly the most dangerous elf ever to wield a recipe. Patrons would half-kill one another in their struggles to snatch the last one of her tongue inspiring confections.
Bannor glanced two levels up to Terrace Illustra, Arminwen Janai’s all-but-owned bastion of comfort and business, then back to the bakery. He took another whiff of sweet smelling air.
The mission could wait a few moments.
He threaded through the score-odd gentry seated and standing, most of whom were enjoying a repast of Velastra’s succulent wares. He stepped down onto the recessed platform and followed it around to the counter where the baker put her creations on display. Practically drooling, he stopped and admired the variety and volume of the baker’s magic. Loaves of different kinds of bread, cakes, tarts, pies, and pastries had been arranged on racks and sheets to tempt the tastes of the patrons of Hill Court. Black hair tied in thick knots willowy Velastra swept about her open-air kitchen, throwing ingredients into pans, stirring pots, and scolding her three assistants.
He felt the pouch on his side, yes, he had coin of the realm—good. For the first couple of moments, he just stood paralyzed in front of the racks feeling and smelling the warm moist air waft over him. He felt his pouch again. He hoped he had enough money.
As he started fumbling coins out of the pouch to make a purchase, he realized that he’d been standing next to someone who was obviously enjoying the smells just as much or more than him.
“Wren! Hey, I didn’t see you there. It’s been quite a while I haven’t seen you around.”
The blonde savant blinked and looked over. Dressed in a purple silk blouse and skirt, the woman could have been confused with many of the other nobles in the court, that is if you could ignore the knives sheathed on her legs and the thin stilettos used to fasten her golden hair. The score-days since the war had been good for Wren. She’d put on weight and the lines of her face had softened considerably. The gleam in her ghostly-blue eyes was sharper than ever, and a disarming smile now seemed to be her weapon of choice.
Wren sighed. “Bannor! Hello! Yes, I’ve been kind of hiding.”
“Hiding?” He frowned. “From whom? Did you do something wrong?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, I didn’t break a law or anything. No, I did something that really upset a friend—and I’m kind of trying to avoid running into her.”
“Upset her, how?”
“Well, you know when I came to get you out of that scrape in Blackwater—I had Irodee with me, remember?”
“Of course.”
“Well, you see, that’s the crux of it. I brought Irodee along instead of her—and then all that bad stuff happened and…” She let out a breath. “And then more bad stuff happened…” She winced. “It’s complicated. I missed her wedding, and didn’t call her… It’s all a mess.”
“Missed her wedding?” Bannor narrowed his eyes. “I remember Tal mentioned something about someone looking all over for you.”
“Yes,” Wren grimaced. “She’s going to catch up to me eventually.”
“Do you not like this person or something?”
“No, actually, she’s my best friend.”
“Irodee is a great friend, but I’ve known Zee longer, and have been through more with her. It’s just that Zee is kind of… clingy.”
“Clingy?” He shook his head. “You lost me.”
“Like I said, it’s complicated. She was supposed to get married, but she kept putting it off. She was using me as an excuse—that she just had to go with me. So, this last time I took off without telling her, so she would finally go through with it. Then things went all sideways and terribly horribly wrong…” She rubbed her face. “She’s going to kill me.” She shook her head again. “Sorry to burden you with that tale of woe, you’re obviously here to eat something like I was.” She looked back to the racks of Velastra’s goodies and sniffed the air. “Damn, they smell good. I need twice as many to get my mind off that.” She raised her hand and waved at one of the assistants. “Meitrea! Meitrea! Trika com dal es na-namae.” She pointed to some berry and icing covered pastries on the tray in front of her and held up four fingers. “Quatra.” She looked back to him and colored a little. “Sorry, I’m famished—or at least I realized I was when I got waylaid by a downwind breeze.”
He laughed. “No worries, I was just diverted myself by an attack of appetite.”
“Mmmm,” Wren hummed, almost bouncing as the dark-haired elf arranged the four pastries on a plate. “You want me to order you something? I know your Elvish is still a little weak.”
“Thanks, I want what just came out of the oven over there,” he pointed to a melon-sized snowy white loaf of spear-grain bread sitting on the cutting board, its nut-brown top split and golden rivulets of butter dribbling down its sides.
“Oooh, good choice.” She looked to elf poised at the counter. “Meitrea, es ji dim—” She paused. “Dimkhal?” She pointed to the bread.
The elf frowned and glanced where Wren pointed. “Dimikha-al?”
Wren made a coming gesture. “Ai. Ai. Dimikha-al. Letres es monetara.” She shook her head looking toward Bannor. “Fine one I am to talk about speaking the language. Lords!”
Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda Page 2
