We crossed one more square, another bridge, passed through a triumphal arch, rounded a corner, and stopped. The end of our journey was before us—the Royal Residence of King Jusson Golden Eye. And behind it was me sea.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The royal compound was a huge, sprawling complex several stories high with wings, annexes, and outbuildings. The palace itself was gold-roofed, but there was the purple of the army and the different blues of commerce. The servant, being a considerate guide, allowed us a few moments to gawk before riding on.
As we neared, I could make out over the surrounding walls the soaring arches and graceful colonnades that were part of the original elfin building, and see where human architects tried to match their delicate beauty. They came close, but it was still obvious where one ended and the other began. Something gleamed to my left and I turned. Across from the royal buildings was the patriarch’s See, the crystal and silver church spires bright in the sun. I blinked at how the palace and the See were opposite each other, and the tension that seemed to shimmer between them.
“Politics, Rabbit,” Suiden murmured, “and a balance of power. One counterweighing the other so the scales remain even, never tipping into either the tyranny of an unchecked throne or the fanatical orthodoxy of church governance.”
“What about the army, sir?” I asked. “Where does it fit?”
“Right now in the Lord Commander’s hand,” Suiden replied.
I opened my mouth to ask what about the king, but shut it again at seeing the servant’s interested gaze.
The entire compound was on a promontory that thrust out into the ocean and I could hear the breakers crashing below it. We reached the only bridge that spanned the palace moat; I looked down, saw sharpened stakes in the water along with strange fish with many teeth, and moved my horse as close to the middle as I could get without running over the captain. On the other side of the bridge was the guard gate. We stopped and I leaned forward, curious how this would play out.
“Guests to see Foreign Chancellor Berle.”
The lieutenant in charge merely nodded at the servant and waved him through, he and his men taking care to salute the captain as we passed. I did, however, sneak a peek behind me and saw them clumped together staring after us.
We were led up a broadway, lined with trees punctuated with vistas of fountains, ornamental lakes, arbors and shaded walks. The road crunched under the horses’ hooves—it was made of crushed seashells and gleamed white in the morning sun. The ground had been gently sloping up for some time, but as it leveled off, we veered to the right, following a smaller road that curved around a stand of flowering trees. Clearing them, we could see that we had come to a palace wing. As we dismounted, liveried groomers appeared to collect our horses, and after a brief but heated discussion about who was to carry the death staff and dragon skin, we climbed the flight of steps into the building—I last, because my arms were full.
We were ushered into an ornate reception chamber that had columns with twining vines carved onto them, cages full of bright-feathered birds that chirped and twittered, a painted ceiling full of cavorting nymphs (I heard a gasp behind me as Jeff realized there were bared bosoms and legs up there), and a mosaic floor showing cavorting mermaids (there was another gasp as he realized what we were walking on). Tall, north-facing windows filled the room with a soft light, and I could see someone standing by a table at the far end. She bowed as soon as Laurel Faena got into range and as she straightened I looked into the face of a vixen.
“The Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Berle,” the servant intoned. He then effaced himself, leaving the room.
“Grace to you, Ambassador Laurel,” the chancellor said. Her russet eyes flicked over me, rested on the captain for a moment, then snapped back to the Faena.
“Honored chancellor,” Laurel said, rising from his own bow. He turned and gestured for me to join him. “May I?” At the chancellor’s nod, Laurel directed me to lay my burdens down on the table. As soon as I did, I moved back to where Jeff was trying to find an inoffensive place to put his feet, and Suiden joined us.
Chancellor Berle looked down at the staff, shield and hauberk. “My goodness, Ambassador. What are these?”
“The reason why I’ve come to speak with your king, Chancellor,” Laurel said. “They are what’s left of two Border citizens.”
“I see.” Chancellor Berle stared with dismayed fascination; then she gave a wry smile. “Well, I was going to invite you to be seated, but I don’t think that would be appropriate now.” At the captain’s high sign, Jeff and I grabbed chairs and moved them away from the table. The chancellor gave another wry smile. “Thank goodness for ingenuity. Shall we?”
Despite Suiden’s prejudice against gambling, I’d been in a few high stakes games where it was as much bluff and reading the other players as it was skill and luck of the draw. Chancellor Berle and Laurel Faena sat facing each other as if one had bet the family estate and the other was determined to win it. The chancellor made the opening bid.
“I wish to apologize, Ambassador Laurel. You’ve come a long way to receive such a poor welcome.”
“Thank you, honored chancellor.” Laurel saw the chancellor’s bet and raised it. “I admit it was a little disconcerting.”
Chancellor Berle nodded. “Unfortunately, I was away from the city and did not get word that you had arrived until I returned last night.” She made a discard. “And contrary to appearances, the treasury clerks do not set foreign policy.”
So much for Losan eso Dru.
“However, I trust that you’ve managed to get everything arranged to your satisfaction?”
“Yes, honored chancellor. Through the efforts of Captains Suiden and Javes, the embassy should soon be completely furnished.”
“Good.” Chancellor Berle shifted in her seat. Time to show cards. “So, Ambassador, as I said, you’ve come a long way. Why?”
Laurel Faena stood and walked over to the table. He looked at me and held out his staff. At the captain’s nod, I walked over and took it from him, starting a little at the warmth that spread over my hand and up my arm. Laurel bent over and removed the shroud from Prudence Oak’s body. The chancellor rose and stood next to the Faena.
“Are you familiar with spritewood, honored chancellor?”
“Yes, Ambassador.” Surprised, I looked up from the table and met Chancellor Berle’s eyes as she watched me over Laurel’s shoulder.
“Then I don’t need to explain what this is.” Laurel traced over the dead sprite. “Her name was Prudence Oak, Chancellor. I knew her and grieved hard with her sister over her murder. So imagine my shock when I discovered a church elder using her body as his Staff of Office.” Laurel pointed at the hauberk. “Or my horror when I saw a commander in the Royal Army wearing the skin of Dragon Gwyyn, a son of a dear friend.” Laurel looked up. “The commander said that he was told it came from the Royal Armory.” Laurel moved back to his chair, sitting down. “For the past five years we have suffered predations from runners—”
“Runners?” Chancellor Berle asked, also seating herself once more.
“Smugglers and raiders, honored chancellor. They run wood, pelts, ivory and such into Iversterre and the lucrative markets here.” Laurel held out his paw and I handed his staff back to him. “Where no one asks any questions about the origin of an exotic fur, or whether the apothecary’s potion contains real dragonheart.”
“This is very distressing, Ambassador.”
“We’re not too happy about it ourselves.” Laurel leaned forward. “There is talk of war.”
There was silence. “I see,” Chancellor Berle finally said. “Are you sure that these smugglers are from here?”