"Fair greeting, Braeros," the Lady Silvertree replied gravely, for all the world as if she wore naught but a nightrobe, sash, and boots every day, and customarily went about the world collecting unlovely and aging naked men. "Where bides the King?"
"In the Southern Sunchamber, Lady," the guard replied swiftly, "with the Lord and Lady Delcamper."
Embra nodded her thanks and the overdukes hastened to the southern doors of the room, with Hulgor padding along barefoot in their midst frowning and asking Flowfoam around him, "Lady Delcamper? Has the lad married, then? Why, the scamp! To manage a courtship without laying a hint of it amongst us, his dearest kin…"
As they trotted along a passage, crossed a larger, grander one, and mounted a broad flight of stairs, servants and courtiers alike cast swift, startled glances at the unclad stranger among the four hurrying overdukes, and then as quickly looked away again and continued about their business.
Craer took silent note of those few who froze and then hastily ducked away in a different direction than they'd been proceeding-and as they turned on a landing of Axehelve Stair, he laid a hand on the arm of the duty page of drat stair, and murmured, "Suitable garb for this noble lord who accompanies us, with a dresser and a screen, to the Southern Sunchamber, before I draw twenty breaths more."
The page bowed and raced off down the steps as the overdukes proceeded, passing several pairs of stern and watchful guards, and entered the Sunchamber.
A small ring of guards faced outward in a corner of that large, bright, and mostly empty hall. Within the ring of sentinels, three folk sat at one end of a table that had chairs for six, talking earnesdy: King Raulin Castlecloaks of Aglirta, and-
"Flaeros, you young rogue!" Hulgor roared, lumbering forward with his arms flung wide. The guards lowered their glaives menacingly, even as Hawkril bellowed, "Blades aside and rest easy, all!" and the bard stood up and gasped, "Uncle Hulgor!"
The guards glanced away from the onrushing, naked graybeard to their king, and Raulin grinned and waved a hand to indicate agreement with Hawkril's shouted order. The guards drew aside, revealing-
"Orele, graul you! Gel, I thought the maids'd been a trifle more on both the lazy and frisky side this last while! Well, by all the watching stars and gods-"
And then Flaeros and his uncle slammed together in an unruly bear hug, and Hulgor's words were lost in roaring laughter. The older Delcamper shook Flaeros, ruffled his hair, and men scooped him off his feet and carried him like a featherweight child's doll to where the Lady Orele waited demurely-and swept her up into the same jovial embrace.
Crushed against his overweight nakedness, the wrinkled Lady of Chambers clung to her cane as the guards watched, some of them grinning openly, and gasped, "Don't crush all of my ribs, you great bear!"
Hulgor bellowed laughter into her face, making her wince visibly, and then held Orele out dangling at the full stretch of his arm. "Well, now, Old Wrinkles, ye still look as slyly beautiful as ever, under all mat starch and sharp tongue! Why, graul me if-"
"Lord Hulgor," the aging servant said primly, "at your age you should be very aware that 'tis less man seemly for men of your station and present lack of dress to go about accosting servants of any gender, particularly mine. Have you misplaced your dresser? Or left some wench in such rude haste that your garments remain strewn about her bedchamber, perhaps?"
"Uh, the Lord's dresser," the breathless page announced from behind them all, judging this the proper moment to interject. Craer thanked him with a grin, and guards chuckled as Hulgor let go of Flaeros and snatched Orele up in both hands to bring her close for a kiss.
"Ah, now, Sweethips, 'tis not like that at all! Why, not a-"
Lady Orele was shorter and far more slender than the Lord Hulgor, but her present position in midair placed her feet at a most effective height for dealing with accosting lords. She made use of that situation now, abruptly.
The Lord Hulgor announced his reaction to Flowfoam with a strangled "Eeep!" and a hasty, staggering return of the Lady Orele to the ground. It was accomplished with as much care as a pain-wracked, doubled-over man of advancing years can manage, and Orele acknowledged his effort with a curtsy before telling him severely, "As I've said before on several occasions, my lord, I am not to be addressed by that love-name in public. Nor as 'Wrinkles,' 'Old Boot,' or some others you should recall." Then she whirled around to turn her back on him, ere calmly resuming her seat.
Flaeros gazed at her, shaking his head slightly, before turning to the king and saying, "Your Majesty, may I present the Lord Hulgor Delcamper?"
The wincing, naked man glanced up from his pain and gasped, "Ah, yes, ye'd be Raulin. Charmed."
The king took Hulgor's hand and chuckled. "Likewise. Be welcome in Flowfoam, and at all our councils. Nice fashion statement, but one I hope few of my courtiers will adopt." He hesitated, and then added with a grin, "Save perhaps the Lady Factor of Sart, Florimele, and-"
"Not now, Raulin," Embra Silvertree told him warningly. "You know such public revelations will only lead to trouble. Florimele's mind is far less lovely than her skin, believe me." She turned and gave Craer a hard look. "And before you say something clever, Lord Delnbone, 'tis none of your business and irrelevant anyway, so ask not how much experience I've had of either." She turned her head again. "Lord Hulgor, is our bargain fulfilled?"
Dressers were swarming around Hulgor Delcamper, and his face was still creased with pain, but he managed a nod, a smile, and the words, " 'Tis indeed."
Embra nodded, and turned to her three companions. "Then, Overdukes, we've an unfinished task and a Stone to accomplish it with." She drew off her boots, thrust them through her sash, and stroked her bare feet across the marble floor, nodding as she felt the old Living Castle enchantments stirring. Then she held up the Dwaer. "Let's try again to trace the Dwaer my father holds."
Hawkril promptly turned to the page and growled, "Proper garments for the Lady Silvertree, here in haste!"
"A moment," the Lady Talasorn added, as the lad rose out of a florid bow to race for the doors. "Bring also, from the chambers I share with the Lord Craer, the belt with three pouches on it. Open none of them, mind, unless painful death beckons you strongly this morn."
The page nodded and ran out. Several courtiers tried to crowd in as the door opened, but the guards were watching the king and Hawkril for signals, and received the same gesture from both. Accordingly, they swept the room clear again and closed the doors, despite shrill protests.
Silence fell in the Sunchamber, and the Four became aware that they had an interested audience. Embra was already trembling in near trance, calling on the Flowfoam enchantments and the Dwaer whilst trying not to "hear" either, but the other overdukes gazed at everyone crowded into the room until Craer waved a dismissive hand and said, "Now, now, there's not really going to be much to see. This is real magic, not-"
"Craer," Tshamarra warned silkily, and the procurer shut his mouth softly, without saying another word. The guards goggled at him as if the Three themselves had appeared in glowing splendor to work a miracle before their very eyes… because, of course, that was more or less what had happened.
At which point Embra opened her eyes again and murmured, "I've found Overduke Blackgult and that Dwaer-in the Silent House."
The other overdukes looked at her, and Hawkril rumbled, "I find myself unsurprised."
Embra nodded and sighed. "Somehow I knew we'd end up back there before long."
Craer shrugged. "We should fix it up and make it our palace."
She wrinkled her nose. "Haven't you forgotten that it drives Silvertrees mad?"
Craer grinned at her. "It's already done its worst to you, I'd say."