“Yes, sire,” Groskin said, still staring at Suiden. Sweat was beading on his forehead.
“You will go back to the barracks,” Thadro said, “and sit in your quarters—alone. I want you to think on your good fortune in having a third chance, when most wouldn’t have had the second. Dismissed.”
Everyone was silent until the door shut after Groskin.
“Ten to one Obruesk is lurking about the hallway waiting to pounce on his ‘good friend’s nephew,’ ” Javes said.
“No takers,” Thadro said.
“We will talk to the patriarch, and soon,” Jusson said, his eyes hard. He then turned to Thadro. “Please bring in the others.” Once more Thadro signaled and a guard went back to the door. The king looked at Suiden, his face easing—a little. “Cheer up, Captain Prince,” he said. “It won’t be nearly as bad as you think.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Suiden said as the guard returned, escorting Laurel Faena, Foreign Chancellor Berle, Lord Esclaur, several advisors, and, judging by his uniform, the Lord Admiral. Behind Chancellor Berle followed another guard carrying a large wooden box.
“Always ‘Your Majesty’ and never ‘sire.’ ” Jusson propped his chin on his fist as Chancellor Berle and Laurel Faena sat at opposing ends and the others filled in the rest of the empty chairs around the table. “Why is that, Prince?”
“I once called a man not my father ‘sire,’ Your Majesty. It didn’t turn out well.”
“Your uncle, the Amir of Tural?” Jusson asked.
The thought went across my mind that the difference between a king and a farm boy turned lieutenant is that when I pushed, I got smacked upside the head. Laurel chuffed once, which he turned into an unconvincing cough while Jusson frowned at me. “That’s enough, Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan.”
As I said.
“Rabbit—” Suiden began.
“All right, what’s going on?” Berle demanded. The king raised a brow at her and she blushed. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty—sire—” She stopped and took a deep breath. “It’s like Lord Rabbit is holding a conversation with everyone else that I can’t hear.”
“Not just you, Berle,” Javes said. “Esclaur and I can’t hear either.”
“But the ambassador, Captain Prince, and I can.” Jusson looked around the room. “Does anyone else hear Lieutenant Lord Rabbit?” Lord Commander Thadro raised his hand. “Interesting.” The king faced Laurel. “Why us and not them, Ambassador?”
“It is an ability, honored king, like having perfect pitch,” Laurel replied. “Rare, but not unknown.” He hesitated and then added, “It is also tied to having the talent, in some measure.”
“Talent,” Berle said, her voice hushed. “Magic?”
I cautiously looked around the table and took in the stunned looks aimed at Jusson and his Lord Commander.
“You call it that, honored chancellor,” Laurel said.
“The Border must be a very interesting place,” Jusson remarked, “if one can eavesdrop on another’s thoughts at will.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that, honored king,” Laurel said. “It usually takes a lot of training to become adept at thought-scrying. The reason why you’re able to hear Lord Rabbit so clearly is that he is very strong—and he hasn’t had much training on how to guard his thoughts.”
A muttering went through the advisors, as the possibility having their thoughts being available for public consumption apparently didn’t sit well, and they cast me uneasy looks. Seeing it, the king rapped on the table. “This is all very fascinating and bears further exploration. Later,” Jusson said, disregarding that he had started it. He looked around the table. “Yesterday we had an attempted rebellion by the House of Flavan. However, it failed and those involved were either captured or killed—except for Lord Gherat of Dru and his kinsman, Slevoic ibn Dru. We have posted men at all city gates and docks, but it seems that they’ve slipped our grasp as several ships were seen sailing from the sea escape.” An advisor looked at the Lord Admiral. “You haven’t been able to apprehend them, Admiral Noal?”
Admiral Noal shook his head. “No. But we have patrols out looking and I’m confident that it will be only a matter of time before we do.”
“And when you do, Noal, what then?” Berle asked, her face challenging. Admiral Noal looked at her, frowning.
“When he does, Berle, he brings him back to us,” Jusson said. “Because of his role in the rebellion and other serious crimes, we have declared Lord Gherat outlaw, his House dissolved, all titles rescinded, and the reversion of all its properties and holdings to the throne.” A faint gasp sounded around the table while Chancellor Berle sat back in her chair, smiling.
“Outlawed, Your Majesty?” another advisor asked. “Without a trial?”
“One of Gherat’s crimes is against the people of the Border,” Jusson said. “Murder and slave running. Chancellor Berle, if you would tell us what you found.”
Chancellor Berle signaled and the guard placed the box in front of her. “Agents went out this morning, Your Majesty. This is what they returned with.” Standing, she removed the box’s lid, reached in and pulled out a nobleman’s walking cane with a silver handle. Apparently someone had noticed the dead sprite and had placed two rubies where her eyes were. There were bone-handle knives, belts and boots made of skin that shone with a luminescence, a wolf’s pelt with head attached, and large apothecary jars. I stared at the piglet floating in one, and turned away, while Laurel rumbled deep, his ears pressed against his skull.
“This is just a sample, Your Majesty,” Berle said, sitting down. “We’ve several rooms full. And, of course, you know what the patriarch found in his See.”
“So there is no question that we have violated the Border treaty,” the king said.
“None whatsoever,” Chancellor Berle said, sighing. “What really concerns me, sire, is that not all the—the contraband stayed in Iversly. According to Lord Chause, a great deal, including captured Border citizens, were sold to outside interests, mainly Turalian merchants.”
“We have sent a request for Ambassador Sro Kenalt to help us in our inquiries,” Jusson said. “But we were dismayed to find that the ambassador is no longer in our city.” Captain Suiden stiffened and turned in his seat to stare at the king—only to find Jusson watching him back. “I take it, Captain Prince, that you know nothing of either the flow of slaves to Tural or of your cousin’s whereabouts.”
“No, Your Majesty,” Suiden said. “I haven’t seen Kenalt since your reception—”
“Where you did disappear with him.”
“—nor am I in collusion with Gherat or Teram.” Suiden caught up with the king. “We were—drinking, Your Majesty.” A faint flush shone under his dark skin. “And we were in sight of many.”
“So you were,” Jusson said, his eyes gleaming at Suiden. “And we’ve been told you have a very pleasing baritone and know the most amazing songs.” He raised a brow. “But during your bacchanal your cousin did not spill any secrets about Tural’s involvement?” The gleam increased. “Or would you tell me if he had?”
“I’ve been sworn to your service, Your Majesty, for the last twenty years,” Suiden replied. “Yes, I would tell you.”
“Would you?” Jusson repeated. “Always ‘Your Majesty,’ never ‘sire.’ Perhaps we should have you stand in the Witness Circle and give your oath once more. Would you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I have sworn to your service,” the captain repeated.
“Would you?” the king pushed. “You had once sworn to the Amir of Tural.”
“I didn’t break faith, Your Majesty. The amir decided he no longer wanted my fealty.”