“What?”
“Some pious sailor apparently yielded to His Reverence’s entreaties, dressed him as a crew member and helped him jump ship,” Javes said, taking a gulp of wine. “He’s now loose in the city somewhere, having cast off his seaman’s togs for another disguise.”
“It doesn’t make sense, sirs,” I said. “There’s absolutely nothing or no one for him here.”
Javes shrugged. “Perhaps he heard about the steam baths and decided to mount a holy campaign against them.”
“But—”
“But,” Laurel said over me, “mysteries and revelations aside”—he started herding me towards my chamber door, Wyln falling in with us—”there is much we still need to cover.”
“Why?” Suiden asked.
We all turned and looked at the captain as he set his empty goblet down on the table. Javes started to refill it, but Suiden laid his hand over the top of it as he stared at us.
“Honored captain?” Laurel asked.
“Why?” Suiden repeated, distant curiosity on his face. “Do you really think you can affect the High Council’s decision?”
“Do you know something, Suiden?” Javes asked, setting his own glass down as he also looked at us.
Suiden shrugged. “Think on it, Javes. The Fyrst dissolved Rabbit’s indentures because he was disposed to do so, not because of any clever arguments, triple oaths, or jewels from dragon hoards.”
“But the dead bird—” Esclaur began.
“That was just a convenience, Sro Esclaur. His Grace didn’t even bother to verify whether you were telling the truth—which he could’ve very easily either through Laurel or the Witness Circle—even though you’d volunteered.” Suiden looked back at Wyln and Laurel. “He was much more interested in King Jusson being an elf wizard—”
“Oh, no,” Wyln said, smiling. “Not a wizard. Or an enchanter. Yet. Say talent-born.”
“—and that Rabbit was both his cousin and sworn to him. I think it was then that the Fyrst decided to keep Rabbit, if not for himself, at least out of the—”
“Magus,” Laurel said, shooting a glance at Wyln.
“—Magus’ hands.” Suiden shrugged again. “Up until that point, His Grace was more than willing to give Rabbit back to his master—and didn’t give a pox-rotted damn what anyone else thought or wanted.”
“Yet knowing this, honored prince, you were eager to negotiate Cyhn for your, ah, charge,” Wyln pointed out.
“Protection is protection, Sro Wyln. Even so, I was assured by the Fyrst’s refusal to jettison Laurel and appoint you in his stead,” Suiden pointed out in return. “Why is that, I wonder?”
“Again, I’m amazed, honored prince, in your shrugging off the Faena’s not revealing who sent him,” Wyln said, ignoring both Suiden’s question and Laurel, who turned and stared at him.
“As I said before, I trust Rabbit’s instincts. He turns his back on Laurel. He does not turn his back on you.”
In the silence I could hear the wind howl, and a gust rattled the windows. Javes jumped and then looked around, frowning as he took in the embassy staff watching us with wide eyes. “I think that perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere less public, what?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed for the sleeping chamber he shared with Suiden.
The room was as decadent in rich wood as was the one I shared with Groskin and Jeff. Groskin followed us carrying the wine decanter and goblets. He placed them on the table as we sat down, and turned to leave.
“Stay, Lieutenant,” Suiden said, indicating the doorway, and Groskin stationed himself on one side, the leopard haunt moving to the other.
“Have you ever been told, Your Highness, the history of the People?” Wyln asked as he poured wine into a goblet.
“I know that Iversterre was once Borderland and that there are those who want it back,” Suiden said.
“’Want it back’?” Wyln set the decanter down with a snap as he looked at Suiden, the fire in the fireplace echoed in his eyes. “It was my home, Your Highness, not something I lost out of my pocket. What is now Iversly was Morendyll, the jewel of the sea, and Loran the Fyrst ruled there as High Elf King. There are mosaics Molyu, my sister and his wife, placed into the walls of the palace with her own hands. Gardens, walks and arbors that she and my other sister designed and planted. My own wife was born and grew to adulthood there, as lovely as a sunlit rose, and there I married her.” The flames in his eyes danced over the rim of his goblet as he took a sip of wine. “Ask me where my wife is now, honored prince. Ask me about my children.”
No one said anything.
The Enchanter lowered his cup and gave his gentle smile. “I understand that the Royal Garrison stables sit on top of the pit where their bodies were thrown, with the other muck and trash.”
Again, no one spoke.
“You say that the human does not trust me,” Wyln said. “That he will not turn his back on me, with his sixty-four lines to the House of Iver. Iver who drove me from my home, who killed my family, whose vicars proclaimed their murder a purging of the land given to them by their God.” The Enchanter shrugged. “Well, perhaps Two Trees’son is wise to be careful.” The wind gusted hard, once more rattling windows. Remembering what Jusson had told me he’d seen when I touched him, I traced my reflection in the polished wood with my finger, desperately hoping that I did not look like my distant ancestor.
“Do not worry, Two Trees’son. You don’t,” Wyln said, his voice light as he took another sip of wine.
“Have we been fools to come, Lord Enchanter?” Javes asked after a moment.
“The honored Faena doesn’t think so, do you, Laurel?” Wyln asked, turning to the cat.
“You can lower the bucket all you want, Wyln, but that well is dry,” Laurel rumbled. “I refuse to quarrel with you.” He looked at Javes. “I’ve been accused of playing fast and loose with my promises, honored captain, but I’ve made just one covenant and one oath, and so far I’ve kept both.”
“When this High Council meets,” Esclaur said, frowning at Laurel, “you may very well find your vows null and void.”
“I have never promised peace,” Laurel said. “Not to any of you, not to your king. However, I have sworn to keep Rabbit from the Magus, and so I will.”
“And I have sworn to his fosterage,” Wyln said as he prepared to rise, “no matter Two Trees’son’s antecedents.”
“Why?” Suiden asked, returning to his earlier question.
Wyln settled back into his chair, exasperation crossing his face. “Why what?”
“If Rabbit’s forefather killed your family and destroyed your home, if humans caused you such anguish, if you hate us so much, why have you taken Rabbit as Cyhn?”
Wyln sighed. “You are worse than a young one with your plague of ‘why’s.”
Suiden said nothing as he stared back and Wyln looked down into his wine goblet, a line between his brows. The Enchanter then shrugged, and finishing his wine, he lowered his goblet. But instead of looking at the captain, he turned his head to me, his eyes intense.
“There is a theory that human talent arises out of some strange alchemy of elf and human. That those mage-born have a touch of elfin blood—and the stronger the talent, the stronger the blood.”
I found myself staring back at the Enchanter.
“Are you saying that Rabbit is part elf?” Suiden asked, he and Laurel the only ones whose eyes weren’t stretched wide open.
“His Grace alluded to it at dinner your first night here, as you negotiated for Cyhn, Your Highness.” Wyln leaned forward and, reaching across the table, took my chin in his hand with a surprisingly gentle touch. I was startled into meeting his eyes but the Enchanter was more interested in examining my features than enthralling me. “Sixty-four degrees to an elfin king, a king to whom His Grace may be related. To whom I may be related—”