“Ah, the welcoming party,” Javes said, looking through his quiz glass at the approaching boat.
“Aye,” Uncle Havram said as he, Suiden, and Falkin looked through their spyglasses. “I suppose we ought to meet them at the gangway.” He and Suiden collapsed their glasses and handed them to the first lieutenant.
“Do we need pipes and drums, Ambassador?” Havram asked as we all clattered down to the main deck. “Have the troops present arms?”
“No, honored vice admiral,” Laurel said, following him. “They look to be just harbor officials. We should be enough. According to protocol, the first one on board will be the harbormaster.” Uncle Havram nodded. Reaching the main deck, he looked at Javes. “Where is the embassy party?”
“Down in their cabins, probably wondering what the hell they’ve gotten themselves into, sir,” Javes said.
Laurel gave a short chuff, an ear twitching back. “Too late for that, honored folk.” He tugged at his coat while I gave a shake to my cape. I glanced down to make sure that my Habbs hadn’t acquired any scuffs and my trousers were draped properly.
“Peacock,” Jeff murmured.
“Yes, he is, honored Jeff,” Laurel said as we arrived at the gangway. “But here, first impressions count. A lot.” Laurel turned me to him for one last inspection, straightening my braid, checking the ties, and adjusting the covenant feather. He then fussed with his own beads and head feathers, tugged once more on his coat, while holding his staff in the crook of his arm. I stared at it, watching its strips of cloth and feathers flutter in the harbor breeze.
“Tell me, Laurel, what happened to the staff that Honor used?”
Laurel’s head shot up and he stared back at me with narrowed eyes, his ears lying back against his head. He let out a rumbling breath. “That is a question, no?”
“Worry about it later, Sro Cat,” Suiden said. “They are here.”
Laurel looked down at his claws, already gleaming in the sun, and buffed them against his fur. He looked up again and sighed. “And so it begins, honored sirs.” I caught a flicker, turned and looked. Basel stood next to Jeff in his stag persona with Honor Ash next to him. I glanced around further. The deck was crowded with haunts, massed so thickly that they were opaque.
“It’s a little different than marines presenting arms,” Falkin said softly, following my gaze.
I was distracted from replying by the arrival of the bosun’s chair, and it was suddenly slammed home how different it was. Then I smiled at the diminutive faerie standing on the deck, pressing my palms together as I bowed.
“Grace to you, Harbormaster,” Uncle Havram said, also bowing, but in the style of the kingdom, his hand over his heart. “Welcome aboard the Dauntless.”
“My goodness,” the faerie said as she stared about her, her hair and wings ruffling in the breeze. She brought her gaze to Laurel. “Honored Faena, what has happened here?”
“It is a homecoming, honored harbormaster,” Laurel said.
“A homecoming,” the faerie repeated as she stared about once more, pausing for a moment at Lieutenant Falkin’s northern elf blondness. Her gaze then lit on Basel and Honor Ash, and her feathery brows climbed nearly into her hair. “A white stag and a sprite Faena?”
“Among others,” Laurel said as the unicorn pulled away from the rest of the haunts and made her way to us. Others began to follow her, pressing close.
“By the blessed Lady,” the harbormaster said, her piping voice rising to a squeak as she took a step back. “Is it a proper sending off for them, then? Or are you chosen to bring justice, honored Faena?”
“Both,” Laurel replied. “But it’s not me that they’ve chosen.” He bowed, pressing his paws together. “I am Laurel Faena, of the Black Hills clan. May I present to you Vice Admiral Lord Havram ibn Chause, Captain Prince Suiden, Captain Javes, First Lieutenant Falkin, Lieutenant Groskin, and Lieutenant Lord Rabbit, honored son of Lark and Two Trees. They have come on a mission of peace.”
The unicorn reached my side, the leopard right behind her. Honor Ash drifted over to my other side, followed by Basel. In a moment I was surrounded by haunts, all facing the harbormaster. She took another step back, the breeze blowing past me to catch her wings, and she hovered while she stared at me. As she took in the feather, bright red against the dark of my hair, her violet eyes narrowed.
“I see,” she said as she alit once more on the deck. She hesitated a moment, then bowed. “Welcome to Elanwryfindyll, Laurel Faena, Prince Suiden, honored folk. I am Harbormaster Lin.”
Chapter Fifty-seven
It was a relatively small party that went ashore: Foreign Chancellor Berle, Lord Esclaur, Vice Admiral Havram, Captains Suiden and Javes, Lieutenant Falkin, Doyen Allwyn, Laurel, Jeffen, and me—and the haunts Basel and Honor Ash (the rest seeming content to wait until their various body parts were off-loaded). Harbormaster Lin was understandably reluctant to let the soldiers and embassy staff off the ships until the powers that be gave the go-ahead, so Groskin was left on board to take charge of the rest of the troops and to oversee the transfer of the cargo to a warehouse allotted to us by the dockmaster. He was also charged to keep Chaplain Obruesk under control.
“I do not want the chaplain raining down anathemas on the city’s citizens, Lieutenant,” Suiden said. “Even from out here.”
“Yes, sir,” Groskin replied. He took a deep breath. “You can count on me.”
Our landing party was met on the quay by a small detachment of foot soldiers led by a mounted elf wearing burnished silver armor, a cape of deep blue hanging from his shoulders, and a feathered blue cap. With his narrow face, pointed ears, winged brows and black eyes, he could’ve been a distant cousin of King Jusson. But then there were those who claimed that all dark elves looked alike.
“Laurel Faena?” the elf asked, his voice light and lilting as he looked down on us from horseback.
Laurel bowed.
“I am Eorl Pellan, Lord Commander for His Grace, Loran, the Fyrst of Elanwryfindyll.” He looked us over once more, this time settling on me, his face going still as he focused on the feather, and then his eyes widened as he took in Basel and Honor. He shot a glance at Laurel, who looked blandly back at him.
“Grace to you, Lord Pellan,” Chancellor Berle began as she pushed forward, only to falter as both Laurel and Commander Pellan turned to look at her, the elf’s stare coming down his nose.
“Honored Berle is an emissary of King Jusson of Iversterre, and is sent as a gesture of goodwill and a hope of peace,” Laurel said, turning away from the chancellor with a flick of his ear, and her face burned dull red.
“Well, I’m to bring you to His Grace, honored Faena,” Commander Pellan said, also turning away. He gestured and the detachment parted to allow two carriages through, pulled by muscular horses. “It’ll be a tight fit, but I think we can get everyone in.”
“If I may, honored commander, I will walk with you,” Laurel said, with another bow.
Under the confusion of loading the carriages, I moved over to Chancellor Berle. “You do not speak unless addressed first, Chancellor,” I said, my voice soft. “Didn’t Laurel Faena talk with you about protocol?”
“Yes, but—” Chancellor Berle broke off, her face remaining flushed as she glared at me.
“It’s going to happen again, Chancellor,” I said. “You will be spoken around as if you aren’t there. Elves do not like humans for very good reasons. I wouldn’t be surprised if both Commander Pellan and the Fyrst fought in the War. In fact, they may very well have once lived in Iversterre—and had kin killed in our efforts to drive them out. Remember that and step as lightly as you can.” I looked at First Lieutenant Falkin. “You should be careful too, sir. The dark elves aren’t all that fond of the northern elfin clans.”