“No, Your Grace,” Uncle Havram said before I could respond, his mouth like a wound. “Nothing so noble. My brother just likes his silver.”
I took another deep breath. “I am also close kin to Teram ibn Flavan. He’s the son of my mother’s brother.” In the abrupt quiet of the room I could hear the wind outside start to pick up, whistling a bit as it gusted around the buildings of the keep.
“May I ask why Slevoic was here, Your Grace?” Javes finally asked, breaking the silence.
“That’s something for the High Council to answer,” the Fyrst said, his face as remote and cold as it was when we first saw him in his hall. He turned his head again to look at Laurel. “All this you kept from me, Faena. Why?”
Laurel’s ears were against his skull as he indicated the haunt-crowded room. “Did you know, Your Grace, that these are from just one shipment of—goods?” He nodded at Honor’s haunt standing next to my chair. “I left Honor Ash Faena alive and well, but when I reached Iversly, I found her body already there, seasoned and fashioned into a church Staff of Office. With bells. As Rabbit Two Trees’son has said again and again—for five years the High Council couldn’t find the runners preying on its people? On this scale?” He rumbled deep in his chest. “And just how did these runners manage to kill a Faena?” Both Loran and Wyln turned to look at Honor, frowns gathering on their faces.
“I also found out upon my arrival in Iversly that King Jusson had no intention of repudiating the treaty between Iversterre and us,” Laurel said. “In fact, when honored Jusson discovered that the treaty had been violated, he charged me to find a way to prevent war.”
“What are you saying, Faena?” the Fyrst asked, his frown deepening.
“Then I further discover that not only is Dragoness Moraina one of the treaty signers,” Laurel said, ignoring His Grace’s question, “but that she also carried on a correspondence with King Jusson’s great-grandsire.”
“What?” All remoteness fled as the Fyrst pushed himself out of his chair and stood staring down at Laurel, while Wyln shook his head slowly.
Laurel’s eyes glowed. “But am I told this? Am I told any of it? No. Instead, I’m sent off to search for Rabbit in the back mountains of the human kingdom. I’m even kept away from Veldecke, where there was a rape and murder of a fae—and, though the Faena who strode there knew who did it, he took no one.” The Fyrst and Wyln turned their heads to Groskin, who flinched.
“Oh, no, Your Grace,” Laurel said. “He was the only one present who hadn’t, and he was punished for naming who did.” He settled back in his chair. “You say I’ve kept things from you. Well, I suppose that’s true. But I’m saving my questions and comments for the full Council.” Laurel’s whiskers swept back to show his eyeteeth. “Then I will question everyone most diligently, even the Council representative for the dark elves.”
“Will you?” Wyln asked, his flame-filled eyes matching Laurel’s amber stare.
“No, Wyln,” the Fyrst said, putting his hand on the Enchanter’s shoulder, and Wyln subsided. “The Faena can ask all the questions he wants, for I am very interested in the answers.” It fell silent again and in the quiet we could hear trumpets. The Fyrst looked over at the window. “More of the Council arriving. I shall have to go greet them.” He looked back at us. “The only way a secret between two can be kept is for one to be dead—”
A very faint smile came over Javes’ face.
“—and even that is not certain.” The Fyrst started to turn to leave. “Still, I’d ask that we keep what was discussed here—” He broke off as he caught sight of the guard sent to get Captain Suiden still standing in the room. His eyes went to the open door and the other guards bunched there staring back at us.
One stepped forward and then stopped, blocked by the haunts. “Slaves, Your Grace?” he asked.
The Fyrst hesitated, then nodded. “It appears so.”
A moaning sigh ran through the guards, echoed in the wind outside. “Sold in the Turalian slave markets,” another whispered, and Suiden’s face clouded with shame.
The trumpets sounded again and the Fyrst once more looked at the window. “Even more arriving. At this rate the Council will soon be fully assembled and the Faena can ask his questions.” He faced Wyln. “I have to go down and greet the new arrivals who, I’m sure, will also request to see Two Trees’son. If any such requests come to you, turn them down.”
Wyln nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
The Fyrst turned to me. “You will stay close to your Cyhn, young human. Even better if you stay close to both your Cyhn and the Faena. Do not wander off by yourself, or allow anyone to lure you away.”
I nodded also, thinking that the space around me was going to be awfully crowded, especially as a couple of the guards, at His Grace’s gesture, attached themselves to us. The trumpets blew again, signaling the arrival of anomer Council member, and the Fyrst moved towards the door.
“I will send for you again when I have time,” he said, unclear on which “you” he was speaking to, but I had a nasty suspicion that he meant me.
Chapter Sixty-three
Uncle Havram went back to his ship, “to conduct an inquiry as to how the archdoyen managed to get past his vigilant guards.” He looked at me, his face drawn with concern. “But I’ll be back, lad.” As he turned to go, he tried to smile at Captain Suiden. “Hmmph! Should’ve let you toss His bloody Reverence over the side—or at least hang him from the yardarm a little.”
He didn’t wait for the captain’s response, which was just as well as Suiden didn’t give one. The captain did rouse himself to follow Laurel’s suggestion that we quit the Fyrst’s chambers. As we left, I looked around the room, thinking that a battlefield had fewer wounded.
Laurel, Wyln and I did not bother to return to the garden, as the wind had risen to a continuous wail, and instead went with Suiden, Javes, and Allwyn to our chambers. Upon entering, I’d expected to see Chancellor Berle there, but besides the embassy staff, only Lord Esclaur was present. He sat before the fire with a goblet of wine and a book borrowed from the castle’s library.
“Where is the chancellor?” Javes asked.
“Berle discovered the steam bath.” Putting the book down, Esclaur stood and stretched. “She said rocks are heated and water poured over them to make steam while you sit in it. Supposed to be very relaxing, but it sounds much too much like summer in Iversly, indeed it does.”
I smiled, sort of. “I don’t know how relaxing the chancellor will find it as it’s communal.” I saw the question on Esclaur’s face. “Males and females, lords and servants all share the same bath.”
“My word,” Lord Esclaur whispered, awe and glee fighting for supremacy on his face. He then took in the haunts pouring into the room after us and he sobered. “They took off a little while ago as if someone had yelled ‘fire.’ ” He looked back at me. “Is everything all right, Rabbit?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, of course, but nothing came out. I blinked, took a deep breath and tried again. “No.”
Esclaur frowned as he stared at me and it deepened as he looked around at the rest. “What has happened?”
“A reckoning, Lord Esclaur,” Doyen Allwyn said. He also tried to smile but didn’t quite make it. “I’m going to pray and meditate. Blessings.” The doyen went into his chamber.
“Chancellor Berle did not tell His Grace who was behind the smuggling, Sro Esclaur, or why,” Suiden said, his voice tired. He ran a hand over his face. “So we did.” He went over to the wine decanter and poured a goblet.
“What?”
“Makes you wonder exactly what Berle did tell the Fyrst, eh?” Javes said. Esclaur shot a glance at Wyln standing quiet next to me watching all of us, and Javes gave a short laugh. “Oh, they’ve figured us out so completely that we’ve no secrets from them.” He joined Suiden at the wine decanter. “On top of that, Obruesk escaped.”