Smiling, Jusson took another sip of wine, then set his goblet down. “How is the town, Mayor Gawell? Has it calmed down?”
Gawell, busy checking over his take, lifted his head enough for me to see him blink owlishly at the king. “Yes, Your Majesty. It has, for now.” He gave a jowly smile that didn’t touch the rest of his face. “The threat of the king’s justice was very effective. However, we still have people injured and property damaged.”
Ednoth nodded in agreement, seeming more interested in his food. However, his chair was angled so that I could see his eyes narrow shrewdly as he chewed.
Jusson set his goblet down and picked up his plate. “Yes, you’ve told me. And as I told you, recompense will be made to all who have suffered injury to person or home or business.”
“That’s good, Your Majesty,” Gawell said, “but we are more concerned about, ah, future occurrences.”
“I have spoken to my cousin,” Jusson said, “and he’s given me his assurance that what happened this morning will not happen again. Isn’t that right, Rabbit?”
Recognizing my cue, I gave a small bow, trying to look repentant. “Yes, sire.”
“Huh,” grunted Mayor Gawell. “And why should we believe you?”
“Rabbit has the truth rune on his palm,” Jusson said before I could respond. “He can’t lie.”
So much for keeping my rune a secret. I cast Thadro a glance but the Lord Commander was busy scanning the room.
“Can’t lie?” Gawell asked, wide-eyed. “God ha’ mercy.”
Well, actually I could, but the rune made it incredibly painful to do so. Doing my best to look honest and trustworthy, I cautiously lifted my hand to show the rune; fortunately it was now quiescent. Both the mayor and the head merchant stared at it with fascinated horror.
“Why, that’s on the church altar,” Gawell said, peering closer.
“So it is,” Jusson said. “It’s also on my throne room floor in Iversly, and a part of several noble Houses’ devices. A familiar symbol, messirs, one that we ourselves revere.”
“Indeed,” Ednoth murmured, his eyes narrowing once more. “So, what did happen this morning, young lord?”
My mind raced as I figured Jusson wouldn’t want me blurting out about a phantom hand taking liberties with my person. “I was using my talent, Master Ednoth, and wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around me.” I braced myself, but it seemed that I’d stayed to the truth as my rune remained quiet.
“Showing off, eh?” Ednoth asked. He didn’t wait for my answer, which was good. “Well, the street player is a toothsome lass.”
“I’ve heard that,” Jusson said, his voice easy. He turned his head to the mayor. “Bring me a list of damages tomorrow, your honor, and I’ll make them whole.”
It was a scene that was repeated over and over. Whether sitting with chosen victims, or walking around hunting them down, the king worked the room. With both the Freston folk and the Great Lords, he had me apologize and promise it wouldn’t happen again, and then he’d confirm compensation for any losses. To anyone who doubted my veracity, Jusson pointed to the truth rune on my palm. And despite Thadro’s worries, there wasn’t any hissing or shrieking in terror when I displayed the rune. If anything, most once more wore Lord Beollan’s look of weighing speculation. The exception was Lord Ranulf. And it was with Lord Ranulf that Jusson veered from his charted course for the first and only time that evening.
For a while it seemed that they’d never meet as, wherever Jusson was in the salon, Ranulf seemed to always be on the opposite side. But finally they came face-to-face in the middle, though whether through design or accident, I couldn’t tell. Both were a study in happenstance.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Ranulf said.
“Lord Ranulf,” Jusson said, his face grave. “Our condolences on the death of your father. Leofric was a true friend and advisor to us after our ascension to the throne.”
I was startled at Jusson’s first use of the royal “we” all evening. Then Thadro bumped me with his elbow and I shifted my gaze beyond the king to the fireplace, intent on the flames. They crackled back merrily at me, happy to have my attention.
Ranulf gave a small bow. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I received your kind letter.”
“Do you know our cousin, Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan?” Jusson asked. He didn’t wait for Ranulf’s answer. “Rabbit, this is Lord Ranulf ibn—no,” the king corrected himself, smiling. “He is Lord of Bainswyr now.”
I bowed, offering a polite smile despite his slams earlier that evening. “Grace to you, Lord Bainswyr.”
I got a nod and an abrupt “Lord Rabbit” in return.
I did my best to sound affable anyway. “You said we’d met in Iversly,” I asked, “but I don’t recall—”
“It was some function,” Ranulf said. “I don’t remember where.” He turned so that his back was to me. “Your Majesty, forgive my presumption, but is it wise to have him so close to you? Not only has he caused harm in town, I have heard of the—the changes he has wrought in his troop.”
So much for affability. Figuring to save myself another elbowing from Thadro, I made my face blank as I stared at the back of Ranulf’s very red head.
“Where else should we have our heir, Lord Bainswyr?” Jusson asked, mildly interested. “Up in the mountains chasing bandits? Or perhaps back in the Border with the magicals?”
“Back in the Border is not a bad idea, sire,” Ranulf said. “He has seven brothers and sisters, all with the same number of lines to the throne, yet you’ve not brought them to Iversterre, claiming them as kin. Let him rejoin his family and choose one of us for your heir. That way, everyone is where they should be, for he has proven that he does not belong here.”
‘Three times sworn to that same throne, and a fourth time sworn—to me,” Jusson said, dropping the royal talk. “I hold his fealty, Lord Ranulf. Would you have me violate it by sending Rabbit back to the fairies?” His brow rose. “What would they do with such a repudiation? And what would breaking my oath do to me?”
There was silence while conversation continued all around us, some of it mirthful as Jusson’s guests were mellowed by the good food and wine. I could see Doyen Dyfrig shake his shaggy white head and Mayor Gawell’s paunch jiggle as they both roared with laughter at some jest against Master Ednoth, the head merchant’s hands raised in mock supplication. Then Ranulf spoke, his face once more expressionless.
“Please forgive me, Your Majesty. It’s only that I am concerned for your welfare.”
Jusson smiled again. “There is nothing to forgive, son of my friend,” he said, and he shifted the conversation to problems that Ranulf had encountered stepping into his father’s stead as head of his House.
“Very soft words, sire,” Thadro said as we stalked the next group of guests.
“Soft words can always be replaced with hard ones, while hard ones are almost always impossible to soften. Let’s see if I can win Leofric’s son gently.” Maintaining a pleasant expression, Jusson nodded at Beollan, who was watching us openly from across the room. “It is not remarkable that he would have reservations about anything that tastes of the Border,” he continued. “I can afford to let those reservations remain—for now.”
I must’ve looked puzzled for the king turned his pleasant expression on me. “Bainswyr’s principal holdings are near the Border, Rabbit. They suffered a great deal of damage during the last war. Damage that still continues.”