"I know you outrank them, but it will be good prac- tice," he added.
Alaire's face became a distorted mask of humility, and he bowed humbly before the Dark Elf. "I am at your service, my gracious Master," he said, smirking.
"You should be able to do a more convincing job of posing as my secretary than that," Naitachal whis- pered. "They might figure out who you really are, and take you hostage. They are preparing for war, you know."
The smirk disappeared. "Aie yes, you're right. As usual. This is a serious matter, in need of your expert diplomacy. I will play the role to the best of my ability."
Alaire grabbed the wooden tray of biscuits, gravy and boiled eggs.
"We will be leaving promptly after breakfast,"
Dark Elf said, but Alaire had already vanished into the dining room.
Once they'd packed their belongings, Naitachal leaned over and gave parting directions to the messen- gers on how to close up the house. Their curiosity didn't concern him; any room they shouldn't be in, they couldn't get in. Certain spells wouldn't allow any- thing less than a mage, and a more powerful one than he, into the study or watchtower, which were both secret and dangerous spaces. Similar spells would not let common bandits near the house. For the most Fenrich had a peaceful, law-abiding population, more likely to protect Naitachal's property than try to take advantage of his absence.
They mounted up. The Dark Elf rose in his stirrups for a moment; from here he could see the village, deep in the hollow of a long valley. They took to the road, riding along a rocky ridge just above the village, the sort of terrain that would become all-too-familiar before the journey was over.
Alaire followed his gaze. "Should we stop and Mayor Woen we'll be gone?"
"I have already instructed one of the messengers to do so," Naitachal said. "The house defenses will take care of themselves, once the messengers are gone."
"Aye, they will," Alaire said gleefully. "Remember, I helped you lay a few of those magical traps myself, should you have to 'step out' for a little while."
Since Naitachal was the only mage of any ability who lived in the area, he had become the village pro- tector. He had pointed out to the mayor that he was likely to come and go, and that if trouble ever came to the village he might not be around to get rid of it. Alaire's help Naitachal had laid all kinds of tricks and traps to protect the village in their absence.
"Even 'ordinary' humans have outwitted magic users," Alaire pointed out. "In my great grandfather's time the court relied as much on the ordinary, non- magical folk as they did the magic users to Carlotta."
"Quite true. A respectful fear of the unknown, even unknown humans, is a healthy response," noted Nai- tachal as he glanced over at Alaire, who eyed his saddle, as if he felt it might be loose. "But until we get to Suinomen, I doubt there is much that will bother us, human or not. What we have to fear once we get to there is the breaking of our magical anonymity.
Remember, we are mere ambassadors, with musical abilities. We are not Bards, or magicians. We don't even do card tricks."
Alaire made a noise Naitachal couldn't immediately interpret. "Strict, hmm?"
"Strict is not the word I would have chosen," Nai- tachal replied.
Soon the village receded out of sight; the ocean came into full view on their right, and mountains grew up on their left. Here the weather had cooled; where they were going, it would already be winter. Fortu- nately, the King had included two fine dieren coats with their wardrobe, in the traditional Suinomen cut.
They traveled the coastal road into Suinomen.
Weeds now grew in the rutted tracks left by the carts and wagons that brought in dieren wool, the primary source of income for the Northerners. The dieren themselves were splay-footed, antlered beasts, the only visible asset of that kingdom, although Naitachal had never seen one alive. Every spring the herders carefully brushed out the wool, a warm, silky material which was in high demand throughout Althea.
Dieren meat was delicious, and the herders even made a very succulent cheese from the milk. Villagers from Fenrich often tried to bribe the Suinomen trad- ers to bring down and sell a few of the beasts, preferably a mixture of male and female, but they just laughed, only to return with more processed dieren goods the next year. But no dieren. They're not fools, the Dark Elf thought. Assuming the beasts could even live in our climate, why should they give us the means to breed them ourselves?
As if reading Naitachal's mind, Alaire said, "I won- der what dieren look like."
"Well," Naitachal said, feeling mischievous. "I'll bet they have fur. And four feet. And antlers."
Alaire turned slowly, giving him a wry grin. "Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze even me," Alaire said in jest. "Seriously, do you think we'll see them before we get to Archenomen's castle?"
Naitachal considered this a moment. "I doubt it. All we'll see is coastline and marsh. They herd the beasts further north, on the prairies. Maybe. I've never been there myself, so I can't say."
"As long as you've lived, you've never visited Sumo- men?" Alaire seemed genuinely surp What, did he think I have been everywhere and seen everything?
"No. Not there. After my father returned from that land, he warned us never to go there, that something unspeakable awaited us all if we did." Naitachal shook his head. "Remember that it made a practiced Necro- mancer feel threatened. We were not likely to ignore his advice."
"And he never said what it was?"
Naitachal wished that he had. "Not once. He seemed particularly rattled by whatever he saw. His attitude concerning his children even once we were grown was, 'obey, and ask no questions,' so we didn't.
And we do not have the time to seek him out, wher- ever he has cloistered himself, and ask him. If he would even talk to me, renegade that I am."
Alaire pulled up closer to him as the trail narrowed to an overgrown tunnel of trees. "Did he ever tell you anything else about Suinomen? I heard only giants live in the north, in enormous ice castles, and that Suino- men allowed some mages to cast spells that wreaked havoc with the weather."
Naitachal replied, "I've heard the stories too, but they are mostly rumor according to Father's journal. I doubt that anyone can control the weather, but as I told you, these folk do permit magic under tightly con- trolled circumstances. Their passion for regulation has frightened many visitors away. Not that I blame them.
Who would want to live in a place where one cannot even cast a simple Healing spell without licenses and fees?"
"Then perhaps we could cast one last Bardic spell before we arrive?" Alaire asked coaxingly.
Naitachal considered this; the practice would be helpful to the young bardling. But he could think of no good reason to cast a spell just then, except something protective, and a protective spell would last for some time. If we conjured something to protect us they may detect any lingering magic.
"For what purpose?" he replied reasonably, as his horse shook its head until the bridle ornaments jan- gled. "We can't go tramping into Suinomen with magical residue dripping off us. I assume they have some means of detecting magic, if they are policing their kingdom of it. Which means they might even detect it from within our borders. Not a good idea."