Music followed the meal. Jack performed a number of traditional Andalian songs, most praising the courage and sacrifice of kings past. While his lyrics were, no doubt, sanctioned and approved by the authorities, his musical embellishments and fluid, easy play captivated the audience. He switched from a lute to a whistle and back again, enjoying each song as much as his audience did.
After the musical entertainment, spirits were served and the nobles spent an hour or more talking very seriously about nothing of consequence-affairs, scandals and other safe but unimportant topics. Alexander followed Grant around and made sure his beverage was regularly replaced even though he rarely took a drink. In due time, Grant came around to a circle of people talking with Jack.
“You play quite a song, Minstrel,” Grant said, bowing ever so slightly.
“You’re too kind, My Lord,” Jack said with a deliberate, formal bow.
“And where are you from?”
“In truth, I don’t even know where I was born,” Jack said. “I’ve traveled the Seven Isles for my whole life, picking up stories and songs along the way, but I must say, Andalian music has a charm all its own.”
“Indeed,” Grant said. “What brings you to our city at such an historical time?”
“Why, it’s that very history you speak of, My Lord,” Jack said, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice before continuing. “First, wars are fought by better men than me, so I thought it prudent to be on the right side when everything settles down, if you know what I mean.” Grant smiled without humor and a few of the women tittered. “Second, this great city will be right at the heart of the war that decides the next age, and I mean to be the one who sings that story for all the world to hear.”
“How very … plausible.”
“Dear, don’t be rude,” a very attractive woman said, stepping up next to Grant with a gracious smile. She was tall and held herself with deliberate poise. Her eyes were blue and her hair was red fading to brown and tied back in an elaborate braid with strands of silver woven through it.
Grant smiled at her with genuine, unguarded joy. Since Alexander had met the man, every action, every word, every gesture had been calculated and deliberate, yet the smile he gave his wife was spontaneous and real.
“Forgive the inquisitiveness,” Grant said, bowing in deference to her. “With all that’s been going on, I’m afraid I’m a little uneasy.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Lord Grant,” Jack said with another bow. “You are right to be vigilant.”
“I have some friends who need to leave but haven’t had a chance to meet you yet, Master Colton,” Joss Grant said. “May I steal you from my husband for a moment?”
“With your permission, Lord Grant.”
“Of course,” Grant said, giving his wife’s hand a squeeze as she turned to leave with Jack. He watched them go for a moment before commanding Alexander to follow him with a look. He took him inside and downstairs, deep under the manor house, until they reached a large, bare room with a magic circle inlaid into the floor. Grant dropped the bar on the door and pulled Alexander into the circle with him before saying another word.
“Nobody can hear us here,” he said. “Tell me who you are. Tell me why Tyr wants you. Tell me why the Babachenko didn’t let me kill you … that’s … that’s just unheard of.”
Alexander stood mute, weighing his options.
“Here’s how I see it,” Grant said, starting to walk in a circle around Alexander. “Something about you is important, and that means you have value. Since I paid for you, I want to maximize my investment, which means I have to know what you’re worth to make the best deal I can. I would prefer to come to some kind of agreement with you, but you should know that I’m not above bringing your sister down here.”
Alexander couldn’t help but smile, just a little.
“Something about that funny?” he said, stepping close to Alexander, invading his space, then stepping back deliberately and reining in his hostility. “Let’s consider other options, shall we? Now, we both know you’re not the pretender. He’d be a fool to come here … and besides, he has bigger problems, if I hear right. So that leaves a whole range of options. You could be Acuna, but Tyr wouldn’t care about that. In fact, he wouldn’t care if you were a spy from any organization on Andalia.
“That narrows it down quite a bit. Then there’s the Babachenko. He would kill a slave just as soon as look at one, and yet he stopped me from killing you, even though you’d seen something of the utmost importance to the war effort. You’re clearly a security risk. As a slave, that means a quick death, no question.
“Yet here you stand … and I want to know why.”
Alexander faced him silently, relaxed and poised, ready to act should the attack come … but it didn’t.
“Perhaps we could help one another,” Grant mused. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re one of the pretender’s agents come to take the Lancers out of the war. Eliminate the Crown … or the king … and the force lances lose their magic. Andalia’s greatest vulnerability. What if you and I wanted the same thing?”
Alexander wished to the Maker that he could see this man’s colors.
“I’m a merchant,” Grant continued. “All my life, the Lancers have ruled the roads with unchallenged authority, exacting bribes when and how they please, dispensing justice at their whim. The Lancers have no authority within the cities where countless factions vie for power and wealth, but trade requires transport over the roads.
“When the war started, the king sent the bulk of the Lancers to Ruatha, where they’re laying waste as we speak,” he said, watching Alexander carefully.
Alexander schooled his expression, hoping with all his might that Grant was lying, yet knowing full well that he wasn’t.
“Since most of the Lancers shipped out, my profits are up dramatically. I can get shipments through for a fraction of the cost. That got me to wondering about what might be possible if the Lancers were gone forever.”
“You speak treason,” Alexander said.
“Treason for me, war for you. We both get what we want.”
“I’m not at war, My Lord,” Alexander said. “I don’t know why Lord Tyr wanted to buy me, and I’m not sure he knew why either, only that he did and that he couldn’t get his way. And I don’t know why the Babachenko stayed my execution, though I’m grateful that he did.”
Grant stared at him, clenching his jaw, openly appraising Alexander like a piece of meat. Alexander looked at the ground, but he was watching Grant closely with his all around sight.
“I could pay you.”
Alexander looked up. “Pay me for what?”
“Killing the king,” Grant said.
“How would I do that? I’m just a ranch hand.”
“Pity, I was hoping we could work together,” Grant said. “I guess the best I can do is turn you in to the Acuna as a spy. I hear they draw the end out as long as possible. You’ll stay here tonight. I’ll send for them in the morning.”
Alexander waited until he left, extinguishing the lamps and plunging the room into darkness, before testing the boundary of the magic circle. He quickly stepped back inside when his collar began to constrict. Then he sat down in the center of the circle reached out to Chloe.
“Lead Jack and Anja here if you can, Little One.”
More than an hour later, Jack slipped into the room, shrouded by his cloak but clear as day from his colors. Anja showed up soon after.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Alexander said, once they were all seated within the circle. Chloe buzzed into existence and floated to the floor in front of Alexander. “Why don’t you start, Jack.”
“All right … on the way to the city, I left the caravan and obtained some official papers, then went straight to the Minstrels Guild once we arrived. It took me a day to learn the requisite song lyrics, really a pathetic set of pandering blather set to ancient music. Didn’t take long to get my chit after that. I’ve used that cover to gather quite a bit of background information about Mithel Dour.