“What do you suspect?”
“Truly, just a sense that Bannor might be correct in connecting Bertrand to that shapeshifting assassin.”
Wren’s eyes grew wide. “Your own uncle? That’s, ummm, pretty major.”
“It’s high treason,” Sarai responded, her expression hardening. “He is very staunch in his beliefs however. He feels a human in the T’Evagduran bloodline would pollute us.” She shook her head. “I would not have thought him zealous enough to act against us, but people you think you know do surprising things.”
Wren nodded. “I’m sorry, Sarai. That’s heavy.”
Sarai pressed her lips to a line. “Be careful. No matter who is behind the plot, they may already be searching for a scapegoat to steer suspicion away. You and all our outsider friends are likely targets.”
Wren rubbed her forehead. “Yes, I’ll make sure everyone is really careful about who they deal with.” She sighed. “Sounds like I best let you two get ready. I’ll see you tonight.” She hopped up and looked between them. “Both of you watch yourselves too.” She stepped over to Bannor and thumped him on the shoulder. “Especially you, Mister Trouble Attractor.”
He nodded to her, knowing the truth of those words.
They watched her go for a moment before Sarai pulled him back toward their chambers. Dressing for formal was always a chore for him. Color, style, and fabric were all significant in the ‘statement’ one made. Though Sarai didn’t much like politics, this part she seemed to go along with even though it seemed even more frivolous than the rest. Early on he’d been made to stand for bells while several coats, shirts, and pants had been tailored for him. He hated being fussed over. At least the clothing was comfortable… even if he still couldn’t quite fathom which clothes to use for what occasion.
“Red pants,” Sarai said as he closed the chamber doors behind them. “The white frill pullover, and the black jacket.”
“Red?” Bannor said, thumbing through the small portion of the closet that belonged to him. He pulled out the pants and threw them over his arm and started probing for the shirt she requested. “You never have me wear the red.”
“Uncle Bertrand will be there, and… well… never mind… it will take too long to explain.”
He nodded, laying out the pants and shirt and removing his current clothing. Pulling up the bright red trousers and tying them he wondered what kind of signal this sent. Was it some sort of aggressive color perhaps? He slipped into the shirt, tucked in the tails and pulled at the shoulders. He did have to appreciate the smooth feel of silk and the shiny gloss of it as it reflected the light shining in from the balcony. Sarai held up his coat and he aimed an arm at a sleeve and shrugged into it as she assisted him.
She buttoned the jacket for him, brushing the shoulders and tugging at the sleeves. In this, as with many things that she did, Sarai was meticulous in each detail, tracing each crease and fold for proper appearance.
He grinned at her. “What other fellow is lucky enough to be dressed by a princess?”
She smiled back at him, glowing violet eyes meeting his. She reached up behind his neck and gave him a kiss. “Every once in a while, you’re worth it.” Sarai grabbed a comb off her vanity and smoothed his hair. She fussed a bit more, leaning side to side and flicking strands until satisfied. “Let’s go.”
They paused at the entrance long enough for him to put on some polished dress boots before the elderly hall-man let them out. As they headed toward the citadel proper, hard books clicking in the enclosed stone space Bannor felt a queasiness in his stomach. Why was Bertrand going to be at this lunch?
“What do you think is going to happen at this get together?”
They turned and proceeded up a curving stone staircase that opened into a tunnel, bright morning light lit up the further end.
Sarai shook her head. “I don’t know, my One. I’m fairly sure of one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Mother won’t be yelling at us about the baby in front of him.”
“That’s something I suppose.” He squinted as they stepped into the bright light of morning. He put his arm around Sarai, looking down off the slender bridge as they crossed out of Green Run’s main hall toward the Kul’Amaron’s outer bastion.
They clicked along in silence, neither saying anything as a balmy before-noon breeze fingered them gently.
Bannor broke the silence. “Star, I’d been meaning to ask. About these new people…”
“Don’t worry, Bannor,” Sarai said. “I find them all fascinating, including Lady Senalloy.”
“Senalloy,” Bannor repeated. “That reminds me, where was she this morning? She should have been looking after you.”
“She was with Mother, Father, and Ryelle,” Sarai answered. “She couldn’t very well leave her swearing to T’Evagduran. You were with me.” She pulled him tighter against her.
“Well, that better be the last time. She didn’t even come to look in on you,” he said with a growl.
“Actually, Bannor, I suspect she knows her job better than you think. A good guard isn’t visible except when intimidation and power are called for. To be truthful—” She paused.
He leaned down. “Yes.”
She drew her breath. “I do feel her watching me from time to time. It’s quite odd.”
“Like she’s following you around?”
She shook her head. “Just a presence like a part of her is with me. I get the impression that if I ever called for her, she would come.”
“She didn’t mention that,” Bannor said. “She’s definitely powerful enough to do that.”
“What do you base that on, Bannor? I know you have miraculous senses. I can feel her power. I haven’t seen her do anything.”
He frowned. “I saw her fight. She could easily take on a dozen Bloodguard. Her magick is something else again… Trust me, if you get in trouble—call her.”
Sarai nodded.
They stopped at the outer bastion gate. The two steely-eyed elf guards looked them over for perhaps a heartbeat before bowing to their mistress and allowing the two of them through the portico. Inside the citadel yard, Sarai picked up the pace, heading down the cobbled path with purpose. Crossing through a latticework garden, they climbed the magically shaped roots of one of the ancient grove-oaks that stood sentinel around the giant structure.
In the entrance, two more guards in griffin livery bowed to Sarai and pulled open the giant wooden valves for them.
A willowy elf woman dressed in all black with stunning cascade of green hair bowed as they stepped into a corner hall. She had shiny nut brown skin much like the wood elves did.
“Arminwen,” the lady greeted, bowing again.
“Jacullan,” Sarai said.
The green-haired elf glanced at Bannor with deep amber eyes. She focused again on Sarai. “Matradomma awaits you in the blue room,” she said in clear common, obviously coached so he could understand.
“Thank you,” Sarai answered. She picked a direction down the corridor, pulling Bannor along.
Bannor glanced back at Jacullan. “I don’t think I’ve seen her before. I’m certain I would have remembered…”
Sarai laughed. “The bright green hair? It happens when elf and dryad bloodlines mix. She’s been in the south with her family this last season.”
A few hundred steps, several guard postings, and few turns had them standing at the corner out of sight of the entrance to the blue room. No less than six guards, three to a side were stationed at the opening.
Bannor glanced back. “Whoa, security is still tight.”
Sarai nodded. “That assassin might have accomplices.” She drew a breath. “Now, before we go in, whatever you do—don’t let uncle Bertrand make you angry. Don’t raise your voice. All right?”
He sighed remembering wanting to strangle the elf lord in their last encounter. “I recall from the last time. I still don’t know why he can be so discourteous and get away with it.”
&
nbsp; “His sister is the Queen of Malan, that’s why,” Sarai answered. “Mother and Father can’t defend you all the time—you have to be able to defend yourself.”
“How do I do that if I can’t talk back? He only speaks common to insult me.”
“Just roll with it, my One. You’ve survived a thousand times worse.”
He gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
Like he was wading into a gale, Bannor leaned into the ordeal to come. They stepped around the corner and into the hard stares of the guards. After both of them were subjected to a weapons and magic search that had Sarai wide-eyed, they were each lead in by a steward.
The circular chamber had a domed ceiling painted to resemble a cloud-studded summer afternoon sky. A single large skylight allowed sunlight to stream into the chamber, lighting up the many furnishings as well as the plants and water-topiaries built into the tiered structure.
Having never been in this chamber before Bannor took a moment to admire the artistry; the wood carving, stone masonry, and plant husbandry that went into making this place so inspiring. One could easily imagine being outdoors in an overgrown rocky clearing with streamlets coursing through the area. At the bottom of the chamber a large boulder had been sheared in half to create a table surface. Smaller boulders had been cut to create benches down the length of the stone table. It was unique, as were many of the things Bannor had seen in Malan. Dressed in matching gray and green, the King and Queen sat beside each other at the head of the table. Bertrand, dressed in deep indigo with gold chasing, sat at Kalindinai’s elbow, his long dark hair pulled into a tail.
The stewards walked them to the side of the table opposite Bertrand and introduced them both formally. Both he and Sarai bowed.
Bannor felt Bertrand’s gaze on him, like a pair of hot coals. He noticed the Queen had her head tilted cheek on fist, her amber eyes studying him. She seemed amused for some reason. He guessed it had something to do with the way Sarai had him dress.
“Be welcome,” King Jhaan said to them in his vibrant voice. The elf lord’s voice no longer had that tone of restrained contempt that it once had. Over the course of the season, he and Bannor had come to an understanding and a certain amount of respect.
“Dom’ista, Matradomma,” Bannor bowed to them. “I am honored.” He turned to Bertrand. “Lord Valharesh.” He bowed again.
“Please.” The King gestured them to the bench.
Bertrand frowned at Bannor the whole time as he held a hand to Sarai and seated the princess at her father’s elbow, then settled himself on the bench next to her.
“I see your illness is better,” Kalindinai said to Sarai with a raised eyebrow.
She nodded. “Much improved, Mother, thank you.”
“You were ill, Niece?” Bertrand asked in his icy smooth voice. Surprising to Bannor, was that he spoke in common and not in Elvish.
“Only a trace of stomach murmurs, Uncle. Nothing to be concerned with. Mother sent some medicine that cleared it up.”
“I see.” Bertrand responded. He took a cloth napkin from a steward that bowed next to him and placed it across his leg. Maids came and offered the same for himself and Sarai, and the King and Queen. Cups of what looked like wine were placed at everyone’s elbow, and plates of various kinds of fruit were set down in front of them.
King Jhaan took a large red crunchfruit from the plate in front of him. Gathering up a knife, he began pealing the skin in a single long spiral cut. He spoke and worked the knife at the same time, his eyes never glancing down to the fruit, instead focusing on Bertrand. “So, Brother, you never mentioned your business today.”
Bertrand’s gaze followed the knife on the fruit, and the deft way that Jhaan worked it. “Milord, need it be business to come visit my sister?”
The King smiled. “Of course not.” He continued skinning the fruit, glancing at Bannor and then Sarai as he did so. “And how is your wife Bekiria? We haven’t seen her in court in a few tendays.”
Bertrand frowned for a moment. “Beki has been ill of late, so I’ve kept her at home.”
“We’re sorry to hear that,” Jhaan responded, brow furrowed. He placed the long peel on a plate, cut a section from the fruit and chewed thoughtfully. “Can we be of service? I can have the court physician tend her.”
“Pay it no mind, Milord,” Bertrand said. “Thanks for your offer but I’m certain she is through the worst of it already.” He tilted his head, eyes going dark for a moment. He seemed to be nerving himself. He looked to Kalindinai who was picking dark purple fruits from a cluster, washing them in a finger bowl and eating them in slow juicy bites.
The Queen’s violet eyes met his and she raised an eyebrow. “Brother?”
“Kal—” He paused. “I heard there was a disturbance yesterday.”
Kalindinai paused with a plump berry almost to her lips. She continued to pop it in her mouth and smiled. “Is that so? Pray, Brother, what did you hear?”
Bertrand glanced at Bannor. Why he chose that moment to look at him, he found interesting. He picked up his knife and cut a piece of sweet melon. He offered it to Sarai, who took it from him, he cut another piece and sucked on the sweet juice watching the elf lord. Under the table he felt Sarai squeeze his hand briefly.
“We heard that you had caught a spy,” Bertrand said after a pause.
Kalindinai glanced at her husband. Jhaann’s brow furrowed. From their expressions, they looked lost. It was a marvelous job of acting.
She shook her head. “Brother, I know naught of what you speak.”
The dark-haired lord looked as though he had eaten something sour. “Sister, I’m concerned.”
“Concerned?” Kalindinai swished the wine around in her cup, accepting a plate of cheese from a steward and setting it at her elbow. “What for Brother?”
“There were rumors…” Bertrand said.
“Of?” she prompted.
Bertram took a big hit from his cup. Obviously, this meeting was exploratory to discover what the King and Queen knew. He probably hadn’t expected to be completely stonewalled.
“I heard a rumor that some of the Griffin Elite were leaking information,” Bannor said.
Bertrand twitched.
The Queen raised her chin, violet eyes on Bannor. “Did you?”
He nodded. “I must say it concerned me as well.”
Jhaan chopped through his crunchfruit, the blade clinking against the plate. “Troubling thought. How much merit in it is there?”
“I credit the source fairly well,” Bannor said, glancing at Sarai.
“Yes, Father,” Sarai said, picking up from him. “I have reason to believe members of the nobility may be coercing some of the guard captains.” She glanced at Bertrand.
The elf lord was studying his plate at the moment.
“Brother,” Kalindinai said. “What do you think of that?”
Bertrand drew a breath and looked up. “Rubbish,” he said. “That’s treason. No one would have the audacity to insult our family so.”
“Morgeer,” Bannor said.
Bertrand barely turned a hair. He stared hard at Bannor. “Pardon?” His threads told a different story. A flare of agitation and fear.
“I said, ‘more beer’,” Bannor responded. “There’s not enough beer served in Malan.”
Kalindinai stared daggers at Bannor. The King frowned at him.
“Beer,” Bertrand coughed. “Lowborn piss water. Not surprising that you would favor it.”
“I recently heard there are some rather interesting beers made in Silissia,” Sarai said. “I’d always thought the only notable things to come out of that forsaken place were killers and assassins.” She paused. “Uncle, didn’t you travel to Silissia recently?”
“Silissia?” His brow furrowed. “What foolishness, Niece, I haven’t stepped foot out of Malan in over a decade.”
“Uncle, it was my understanding that aunt Beki is quite an accomplished mage,”
“You know she is,” Bertrand responded
. “Not as good as your mother of course, but well versed in the arts.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarai said, sipping from her cup. “It’s just that I heard in court that aunt Beki was down with yellow-eye. An illness quite common in southern Silissia—I just assumed that she’d teleported the two of you there for holiday.”
“You know the court ladies gossip for the sake of making trouble,” Bertrand said in an off-hand tone. “I assure you her malady is none such.”
“Rumors are interesting things,” Kalindinai said between bites of cheese. “I had heard she was ill with summoning sickness.”
Bertrand almost choked. He stared at Kalindinai. “Where did you hear that?”
“Brother, you would be surprised at the strange things that get said and the odd persons that say them.”
He sniffed. “Aye.”
“I am interested in this issue of espionage in the citadel. Honest guards being coerced into divulging privileged information.” The King focused amber eyes on him. “Bannor, can you name names, provide evidence?”
Bertrand’s eyes narrowed. Bannor felt the elf lord’s attention. He drew a breath. Let him sweat a moment. “Dom’ista, you are aware that I have some special senses?”
“Indeed,” the King granted. “I have born witness to your prescience on several occasions.”
“Sometimes seeing a thing—knowing a thing—” He paused, sparing a glance at Kalindinai. “Is not enough. Your daughter taught me that.”
The Queen made a wry smile. “Which one?” She raised an eyebrow, peering at Sarai. “It wasn’t this one.”
The princess frowned at her mother.
“I for one care not what abilities he has,” Bertrand says. “He has not the sense to use them, and would not know a spy if he saw one.”
Bannor turned his gaze on Bertrand. “I am such a burdensome lack-wit. I don’t understand how anyone tolerates me. I should have slit my wrists and put myself out of everyone’s misery long ago.” He stared at the elf lord. He had kept his promise and not raised his voice.
Lord Valharesh snorted and took a slow sip of his drink. “A poor and boorish attempt at sarcasm.” He glanced at Kalindinai and made a dismissing wave at Bannor. “As he says, I don’t understand why you tolerate him.”
Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda Page 37