“Your carriage, My Lady.”
Khriss raised an eyebrow as it pulled to a stop in front of her. She waited expectantly, but Kenton just sat in the back and waited.
“Well?” he asked.
“It is customary to help a lady into a carriage,” Khriss informed.
“All right,” Kenton said with a shrug.
About that time she realized her mistake.
Kenton’s sand grabbed her under the arms and lifted her into the air. She yelped in surprise before he smoothly placed her on the seat next to him. Baon and Ais climbed into the front pair of seats, and the carriage began to move.
Khriss ignored Kenton’s self-satisfied smirk as the vehicle made its way through the city. They headed west, and the street crowds thinned drastically as they approached the richer section of town. By the time they had passed over the wide bridge that separated the larger island from the small one, there was almost no one to be seen. Their carriage approached an enormous mansion with a columned stone front. Several carriages like the one they rode in sat out front of the building, and Khriss could see forms climbing out of them.
“What should I expect?” Khriss asked as the carriage pulled to a stop.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Kenton confessed. “I’ve never been to one of these before. I would expect there to be a lot of kelzin, most of them trying to work some sort of deal with the others.”
“Business?” Khriss asked. “At a party?”
“Parties are only excuses,” Kenton explained. “Lossandin people, like Kershtians, like to make business contracts in an informal setting.”
“Will there be dancing?”
Kenton frowned. “Dancing? Why? Most of the people will already be married.”
“Because …” Khriss trailed off with a sigh. “Never mind.” Why am I even here? I don’t need to search for Gevin any more.
She could, however, work on her second goal. The man beside her held a power that could be the key to defeating the Dynasty. She needed to find out how that power worked.
#
Kenton climbed from the carriage, then offered his hand to Khriss, helping her down.
“You know,” she said, her voice suddenly loosing its edge, “since we’re here together, we might as well act like we get along.” She reached over and took his arm, composing herself and smiling sweetly as one of Delious’s servant’s approached.
Sands, she’s fickle, Kenton thought with a shake of his head. One moment she’s shooting him angry looks for ‘helping’ her into the carriage, the next moment she’s hanging off his arm.
“My Lord,” the servant said, bowing. “The Lord Admiral awaits you in the sand gardens behind the house.”
Kenton nodded, gesturing for the servant to lead onward. Secretly, however, he was growing a bit nervous. He hadn’t been lying when he told Khriss he didn’t know what to expect—he had never been to this sort of event before. His tension mounted as they rounded Delious’s mansion and walked toward a large series of tents to the building’s rear. Other couples were being led along as well, most of them richly dressed in colorful robes and jewelry. Of course, none of the colors could match the deep redness of Khriss’s dress—whatever dyes they had on darkside, they were much more vibrant than those of dayside.
What will they expect of me? Confrontation he could handle, but mingling? For some reason he found the concept daunting.
“Stop it,” Khriss said from beside him.
“Stop what?”
“Stop being so tense.”
“I’m not tense,” Kenton lied.
Khriss snorted quietly. “They’ll sense if you’re intimidated,” Khriss warned. “These people might not be called noblemen after the darkside sense, but they’re basically the same thing. To them, a person’s sense of superiority determines how much respect they deserve. Be confident.”
Kenton took a deep breath. “If you say so,” he said.
“I do,” Khriss replied. “If everything else fails, just start throwing around some of that sand of yours. It’s bound to intimidate the others.”
Kenton smiled. “That, and probably get me excluded from every other guest list in town.”
“Then you won’t have to worry about parties any more, will you?” Khriss asked with a smirk.
“I suppose not.”
“My Lord?” the servant asked in Lossandin as they arrived at the tent. “Your men may wait in the servant’s tent.”
“My men?” Kenton asked with surprise. “Oh, Baon and Ais.” He turned, looking back at the two men. Baon was already walking toward the servants tent—he might not understand the language, but he obviously had experience with similar events. Ais, however, was obviously not about to go join the servants.
Kenton wasn’t certain what to do. His invitation had only mentioned himself and Khriss. Would it be inappropriate to bring Ais in as well? Fortunately, the trackt solved the problem for him by whipping out his own invitation.
“I will be attending instead of the Lady Judge,” he informed. “She regrets that she is unable to make it today.”
The servant accepted the invitation with a raised eyebrow, then nodded. “I apologize, My Lord,” he said, pulling aside the cloth entrance to the tents.
The inside of the large pavilion was well-lit by openings in the ceiling. It was filled with people, most of whom wore the wheel-shaped symbol of the Helm sewn into their robes over the left shoulder. It made sense that the Helm would be well-represented, but there were kelzin from the Field, the Tower, and the Guild as well.
The entire room fell silent as Kenton and Khriss stepped in. There was a long pause, conversations dying, while everyone looked over the couple. Kenton’s eyes flickered toward Khriss, who stood regarding the expressions with confident, even defiant eyes. She met gazes square on, smiling prettily all the way, as the two began to walk into the room.
Kenton looked forward again, trying to mimic her stance. In a way, he felt like he was at some sort of trial, a defendant being judged not on his testimony, but on his appearance. As soon as the thought occurred to him, Kenton felt his own confidence begin to grow. He probably wouldn’t do much arguing this night, but it would be a struggle nonetheless. A struggle to prove himself. That he could do.
“Lord Mastrell!” a slurred voice called excitedly. “I’d feared you wouldn’t come! What an interesting choice of clothing—much more fashionable than those robes.”
The Lord Admiral stood near the back of the tent, speaking with a group of kelzin with suffering looks on their faces—looks that said they wished to the sands that they could be somewhere else, but feared leave lest one of their competitors gain an unnoticed upper hand. Delious was his usual wine-sodden self, dressed in bright plumb robes that nearly hid the wine stains. He made an exaggerated gesture toward Kenton, his motions breaking the tent’s silence and prompting the kelzin back into their conversations. Delious didn’t give them much time to speculate, however. He stepped forward, calling for silence again.
Kenton waited apprehensively as the Lord Admiral arranged his robes for a moment, then accepted a cup of wine from his steward—the same man that had attended him before. This he raised high in Kenton’s direction, sloshing wine over the lip of the cup and onto the sand floor.
“I have an announcement to make!” Delious informed in a loud voice. “I have called this gathering for a specific purpose—or, rather, a specific person. I wish to pronounce my formal support to the Lord Mastrell in the upcoming vote. Let the Helm be the first to extend our hand to our sand master brethren in their time of need.”
And with that, the Lord Admiral promptly passed out, dropping his cup to the floor as he collapsed to the ground.
#
“That is the Lord Admiral?” Khriss asked with amazement as the man collapsed to the floor.
Kenton just shook his head, looking both amused and embarrassed. “Delious. The only man in Lossand who could collapse drunk before the party even begins.”
“I know,” Kenton said with a nod. “Still, he did just give me a vote, so I suppose I should be grateful.”
“He wasn’t going to support you before.”
“He was … uncertain,” Kenton explained. “Delious always votes in opposition to the rest of the Council, especially the Lord Merchant. Just a few days ago he told me he would follow that exact pattern, voting for me only if Lord Vey voted against me.” Kenton’s eyes were speculative as he watched several servants tow Lord Delious over to the side of the tent and prop him up on some cushions. A few moments later, they succeeded in waking the man back up. “I wonder what made him change his mind,” Kenton said thoughtfully.
“Whatever it was, your kelzin don’t like it,” Khriss noticed, looking over the crowd. Many of them looked embarrassed, but a more prevalent emotion seemed to be loathing. The kelzin of the Helm were not pleased with this announcement.
Kenton and Khriss still stood near where they had entered the tent. Kenton continued to wait, still looking a little unsure of himself.
“Well?” Khriss prompted.
“Well what?” Kenton asked.
“Well, aren’t you going to mingle?”
Kenton sighed quietly. “I suppose I should.”
“Yes,” Khriss agreed. “That is what these events are for—even I know that, and I’m a socially reclusive scholar. Come on, you can begin by introducing me to people.”
And so, Kenton did as she instructed, moving through the crowd, using the opportunity to introduce Khriss as a method of introducing himself as well. The kelzin acted friendly toward him, smiling fake smiles and speaking fake words. In all, it was surprisingly like a court ball back in Elis. Replace the sunlight with Skycolors, the sand with marble floors, and the robes with suits and dresses, and the two would be indistinguishable.
However, the most surprising thing about the evening was how easily Khriss found herself playing the part of the room’s central figure. Kenton had been right—between the two of them, they pretty much monopolized the entire party. As soon as they began talking to one set of kelzin, the others immediately assumed they were missing out on some opportunity, and sought to gain an audience as well. Khriss took their stares, goslings, and maneuverings in stride. She spoke easily, despite the language barrier. She laughed at jokes she didn’t understand, flirted slightly with the men, and maintained an air of importance she had never managed back in Elis.
As the party progressed, she came to realize just how much the court’s expectations had determined how she acted. In Elis, everyone had known her as Gevin’s hermitile fiancée—a woman of some power, but little importance. Everyone thought of her as ‘safe,’ a woman who had been chosen because of her title, not her political savvy. She hadn’t dared make too much of a scene, lest she steal the light from Gevin’s sister-in-law, the future queen.
Here, however, she was an enigma. The kelzin were fascinated by the concept of innate nobility—status in society that could not be lost or made with fortunes. Apparently, most of Kezare ignored the darksiders and their little enclave—they hadn’t even considered the possibility of foreign dignitaries living in their midst. By the time the party was half over, Khriss had received no fewer than six separate offers for international trading contracts to and from Elis. She had received them each with mysterious smiles, promising to give the offer consideration and leaving the merchant kelzin to wonder if they had offered too much or too little.
There was, of course, another big difference between this party and those back in Elis. In her homeland, she had always been accompanied by Gevin—a man so charismatic that it was impossible to compete with him. So, she hadn’t tried. She had always simply been ‘Gevalden’s betrothed,’ an almost forgotten adjunct to his royal highness.
It wasn’t that Kenton wasn’t charismatic when he wanted to be; he just wasn’t as skilled. She had to take a guiding role with him, rather than a reclusive one. She gave suggestions on how to hold himself, what to say, and who to distrust. And he listened to her, doing what she said without question. He handled himself impressively for one so new to political life.
She actually found that she was enjoying herself. Suddenly, she was more than just the prince’s decoration. She was important, though no one could tell quite why. Still, she could see respect, and even envy, glowing in the eyes of the kelzin. Back home she might have only been only a passable politician, but here, where the equivalent of the noble class also had to spend a great deal of their time managing businesses, her life in the court gave her a strong advantage.
So it was that as the party began to near its end, Khriss found that she would regret having to go home—something that had never happened to her before.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The arrival of the food signaled that the party was almost at its end. Now new business partners would gather a plate and a qido full of wine and make their way to a more secluded place, where they could celebrate their alliance and plot the downfall of their enemies.
“I had assumed there wouldn’t be food,” Khriss said with confusion as the servants began to slide in long tables full of breads, dips, and ZaiDon.
“Why would you assume that?” Kenton asked with confusion.
“Well, I thought the party was almost over,” Khriss explained.
“It is,” Kenton replied. “That’s why they are bringing in the food.”
Khriss frowned, but didn’t comment further. Kenton could only assume that they did things differently on darkside.
The party had gone better than Kenton had expected. The kelzin didn’t like him—that much he had predicted. However, despite their distaste, they had been civil and willing to talk to him. Some had even seemed eager for some reason. Little of what they discussed had been important, but Kenton had suffered it, mostly because of Khriss’s constant encouragings. And, occasionally, he had been able to work something of substance into the conversation—implying that if the Diem were to continue, the sand masters would bring prosperity to all of Lossand.
He wasn’t certain if his talking would do any good—the kelzin were not Taisha. They had no vote on the Council, or any direct influence on the vote. However, they did hold a great deal of power in Lossand. If, perhaps, his words had swayed any of them, then there was a chance their support would help influence the Taisha. Regardless, one thing was certain—they looked at the Lord Mastrell in a completely new way.
They were used to old, mysterious men holed up in the Diem, rarely making appearances in town. Instead they had gotten Kenton. A boy not even two decades old with a vigorous temperament, a flair for originality, and a half-naked darkside woman on his arm. Kenton smiled to himself—this would not be a party they soon forgot.
“ZaiDon,” Khriss said distastefully. “Is that all you people eat?”
“There’s bread too,” Kenton said with a chuckle, leading Khriss to one of the serving tables. Many of the kelzin had already filled their plates and were moving off toward the other pavilions, where cushions and tables would be set up for private dining.
“One of these days I’m going to have to introduce you to true cuisine,” Khriss informed, looking over the table with a critical eye.
“You tried that already,” Kenton reminded, selecting a carapace plate and grabbing a few klam patties, thin rectangular pieces of flat bread. “I thought it was ‘squishy.’ Remember?”
“You’re hopeless,” Khriss said with a sigh.
“I try my best. Here, taste this,” he said, handing her a piece of ZaiDon.
She rolled her eyes, but let him put the piece of dried ZaiDon into her mouth. As soon as he did so, her eyes opened wide with surprise. “This is actually good!” she exclaimed.
“Of course,” Kenton said, continuing to fill the plate with pieces of Za
iDon. “You didn’t think it all tasted like travel rations, did you?”
Khriss didn’t answer as Kenton handed her the plate, then moved to fill them a dipping bowl—a carapace dish with five different sections for different sauces.
“So, now what?” Khriss asked.
“Now we find a place to eat,” Kenton informed. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to sneak away before anyone decides to join—”
“Kenton, my boy!” the Lord Admiral interrupted, approaching with a leisurely gait. “Surely you’re not going to run off and eat by yourself?”
“Actually, we were planning to do just that,” Kenton admitted, ignoring Khriss’s ‘what is he saying’ look.
“Well then, good,” Delious said. “I’ll join you, and we can sneak off together. Don’t look so downfallen—you’re doing a public service. If you eat with me, then you’re saving the rest of the people at the party from a similar fate. Someone has to suffer, you know.”
“It would be an honor to dine with you, Lord Admiral. I still owe you my thanks for your pronouncement of support.”
“Oh, how delightful. One party and they’ve already corrupted you. Come, I know the perfect place for us to dine.” Delious stumbled drunkenly toward the exit to the tent; his steward followed with a plate of food. Kenton nodded with resignation to Khriss, and they did likewise.
Delious led them out into the sun and across his grounds, which appeared to be covered sand at least a few feet deep. The Lord Admiral had probably shipped sand in to cover his land—it was unfashionable to have too much rock showing on one’s estate. Delious eventually chose a spot beneath an open-sided pavilion that overlooked several pens of exotic sandlings. He nodded for Kenton and Khriss to seat themselves on the cushions, then took a place himself, his steward sitting a short distance away. Kenton noticed that Ais, vigilant as always, had found himself a place not too far away—the trackt would probably be able to hear what they were saying.
“I fear I must apologize,” Delious said, taking a long gulp from his cup. Despite his collapse near the beginning of the party, he now seemed no more intoxicated than when he had begun. Of course, ‘no more intoxicated’ still meant fairly drunk when it came to Delious. His speech was slurred, his movements exaggerated and clumsy, and his face burned with alcohol.
White Sand Page 46
