“You did it,” Javes said, quiz glass forgotten. “You caused us to translate.”
“How did you get that, Javes?” my uncle asked, Suiden joining him in a frown.
Javes looked at Suiden. “When did Rabbit’s hair start to grow?”
“According to Sro Cat, when he came into his power—” Suiden also broke off, turning his frown on me.
I opened my mouth to deny it and the burning in my hand increased. Then the memory popped up of the metallic taste whenever the talent was worked, and how it filled my mouth that morning in the embassy. But I had also tasted it when Slevoic came into his powers, so I could’ve been responding to someone else’s working. Except Laurel swore by his rune that he hadn’t done it, and Slevoic sure as hell didn’t. Which left only me. “I don’t know what I did,” I admitted out loud, and gasped at the abrupt easing of the burning pain. I sat there with my chest heaving as I dragged air into my lungs. “Or why it happened just then,” I added, massaging my hand.
Uncle Havram’s brows knit. “According to the king’s dispatch, it was just when Slevoic thought it safe to challenge you, Captain Suiden, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Suiden said, looking thoughtful. “It was.”
“So it probably stopped him from taking control of your troopers and bringing everything down around Rabbit’s ears,” Havram said.
“Ha, ha, sir,” I muttered. My uncle gave me an innocent look.
“Yes, that’s true,” Javes said, a thoughtful expression on his face too. “It also flushed the traitors out. Teram, Commander Lunkhead—”
The vice admiral snorted a laugh.
“—and Gherat were all forced to act, most likely before they were ready.”
“Yes,” Suiden said again, “which led to the defeat of the rebellion along with the complete exposure of the smuggling ring.”
“But,” I said, massaging my hand, “if it weren’t for the translations, Basel would still be alive.”
“No, that’s not true, Lieutenant,” Suiden said. “You heard Ryson. I suspect Basel was marked once he came upon Slevoic and Ryson gathering the Pale Deaths—”
“What?” The vice admiral sat up on the seat squabs. “Pale Deaths?”
“Slevoic decided to let loose fifteen of them in Rabbit’s room, sir,” Suiden said. “After abduction, poisoning, assassins, and a sabotaged sword didn’t work.”
Vice Admiral Havram’s eyes seemed to start from his head. “That wasn’t in the dispatches!” He looked at me, angry. “What did your Uncle Maceal do when he found out, lad?”
No one said anything.
“I see,” Havram said, slowly. He turned his head to look out the window.
“Right now, though, I am more concerned about Sro Faena saying that the translations happened because we were in the Border embassy,” Suiden said, looking away from the vice admiral.
“Perhaps whatever Rabbit did could only have happened in the embassy,” Javes said, picking up Suiden’s cue.
“Perhaps,” Suiden agreed. “But if so, that still was only part of the truth—and while the cat may not lie, he does seem able to pick and choose which part he will present.”
“Or perhaps he truly believed that it was because of where we were, not what was done.” Javes frowned, trying to remember. “He did say, rather emphatically, that no spells were cast to translate us and was quite clear that we only did so because it was what we were already.”
“Yes,” Suiden agreed once again. He looked back at me. “I’m also concerned about how hard the rune rides you, Lieutenant.”
I was a little worried about that too. I continued to work my hand, now just a little tender. “Yes, sir.”
“You may find yourself in a place where the truth would get you—or us—killed.” He frowned again, staring out the window on his side of the carriage for a few moments. He then sighed. “I shall have to talk to the cat about it.”
I suddenly was a lot worried. “Uhm, yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, Lieutenant,” Javes said, “please try not to turn us all into a zoo, eh?”
We eventually broke out of the dimness of the park into the sunlight, the horses setting themselves for the final ascent to the castle. Facing backward I could not see the actual castle as we approached, but saw its outline on the ground as we passed through its shadow. The ground finally leveled somewhat, and I could hear the change in the sounds of hooves and carriage wheels of those ahead of us. A few moments later, we too rolled over a different surface and, glancing down, I saw the water-filled moat beneath us as we crossed the drawbridge. With a rattle and thump we entered the gate and looking up I noted the portcullis above us, and then we were through and into the bailey of the castle.
As we passed through the gate Uncle Havram returned from wherever he’d gone. “We’ve arrived,” he said. His mouth quirked at my blink, and he once more looked like my da. “Aye, I know. A statement of the obvious. But we’re strangers here—even you, Rabbit—in a place that is, if not exactly hostile, then not overly friendly. I think the advice you gave the chancellor is excellent: Speak only when spoken to and step lightly. I would only add that we all keep our heads down and our eyes open.”
“Yes, sir,” we all said.
The carriages reached the gate in the interior wall and we passed through it into the courtyard. The cavalcade stopped with a shout; there were approaching footsteps and me door swung open, held by an elfin soldier at attention. Vice Admiral Havram climbed out first, followed by Captains Suiden and Javes. They all glanced at the soldier, but he just stared through them.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered to myself and exited the carriage. Jeff joined me and we stood looking about the large courtyard, taking in the mosaics and patterns in the paving stones while waiting for direction, which came almost immediately.
“If you would please follow me, honored Faena?” the Eorl Commander said to Laurel. The rest of us reckoned that included us also, so we fell in behind the cat and followed the eorl up the steps leading into the keep, past guards, and through the thick, beautifully carved doors.
“Wood, lad,” Havram said just ahead of me, his voice soft.
“It was Gifted, sir,” I murmured back. “Given by several trees—and precious for the rarity of it.”
We went up marble stairs, bright against the grim stone of the keep’s walls, the way lit by slit windows just high enough for an archer to comfortably use. Eorl Pellan turned at the top of the staircase and headed for another pair of carved wooden doors (a flaunting of wealth), open this time, with another set of guards staring through us, and then we were in the audience hall filled with elfin lords and ladies in attendance, and a rune circle on the floor that was the double of the one in Ivers Palace. Beyond them Loran, the Fyrst of Elanwryfindyll, sat on a throne upon a dais, his family’s great sword large and gleaming on the wall behind him, the banners of his line and others sworn to him hanging from the high, vaulted ceiling.
Eorl Pellan led us past the Fyrst’s court, stopping short of the circle, and bowed. “Your Grace, I have brought you Laurel Faena.”
The Fyrst nodded and shifted his gaze to Laurel, who also bowed. “Welcome, honored Faena. I trust that your journey went well?” Looking us over, his eyes lit on me, started to move on, then snapped back, snagged on the covenant feather. A slight crease appeared between his brows, which deepened as he took in Honor Ash and Basel, still in stag.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Laurel said. “It was in some respects most satisfactory.”
“Good. Well, I suppose that we should take care of first business first.” His Grace signaled and a guard opened a door. And out walked Magus Kareste with nine other mages. “Here he is, Magus Kareste,” the Fyrst said, his light voice as cool as if he were returning a lost dog. “Your runaway apprentice, brought back by Laurel Faena. As he promised.”