In the last war with the Border, the Royal Army had marched towards the lone mountain pass into their northern neighbor, thinking to overwhelm any resistance. As they’d successfully done before. However, that time the Border Militia was waiting for them—a militia that contained not only the regulation horse and foot soldiers, but also mages, enchanters and other talent wielders; elementals, sprites and other spirits of the land; and dragons, winged lions and other fantastic beasts. Even the trees got in on the act. And, of course, there was the Truth rune. The Royal Army was slapped back into the northern marches, where it was destroyed in a single battle.
And with all the spells, enchantments and brute talent force used, it wasn’t surprising that effects still lingered. I had heard stories of places where crops grew strangely and animals didn’t breed quite right. Places where human births were closely watched by the local doyen and the midwife carried a sharp knife. Just in case.
“Yes, sire,” I murmured. Wondering what nightmares he had to deal with, I glanced over at the Lord or Bainswyr, now standing with some of the local landowners—and found him looking at me, his brown eyes cold and dark.
The fare on the sideboard had been reduced to scraps, the magnificent cake was gone and the wine pitchers were empty when Jusson gave the signal that the dinner was over. It ended as simply as it started—he had Doyen Dyfrig say a closing prayer, then without any fanfare left, as casually as he’d entered, the royal guards standing at the door falling in behind him. I started to follow but Thadro stopped me and led me back to the crowned chair, where we resumed our sentry duty, watching the guests file out. As the salon emptied, Cais gave directions for cleanup to the servants. Then he also left, shutting the door behind him.
“Was there any part of my orders that you didn’t understand, Lieutenant Rabbit?” Thadro asked.
I’d been wistfully watching the servants stack the serving bowls and platters, telling myself that I could raid the kitchen for leftovers as soon as I was released. At the Lord Commander’s words, though, I jerked my head around. “Sir?”
“No provocation, Lieutenant,” Thadro said. “Nothing to make a bad situation worse. Yet, every time I looked around, you were doing your best to undermine His Majesty’s efforts. Efforts that he was making on your behalf.”
I stared at Thadro, distantly thinking that Jusson wasn’t being all that altruistic. The king had another purpose than my reinstatement in the kingdom’s good graces, a purpose that everyone seemed to know—except me. What was foremost in my mind, though, was how much I disliked being looked at as though I was pond scum.
“Arguing with Lord Ranulf, conjuring the wind, questioning me and waving about that damned glowing rune,” Thadro said, listing my transgressions. “Loose and easy interpretations of orders may have happened in your last posting, but I will not tolerate it here. Do you understand that?”
Sod you, I thought. “Yes, sir,” I said, aiming my gaze over his shoulder at the servants, who were very obviously not looking in our direction. Then the door opened and Cais reappeared, giving Thadro a discreet signal.
“With me, Lieutenant,” the Lord Commander said.
I followed Thadro as he slipped out from behind the chairs, dimly hoping that I was finally being dismissed to eat and then sleep. But, to my hungry and tired dismay, Cais led us down the empty hall to a familiar portaclass="underline" Jusson’s study. At the majordomo’s knock the door opened and I met Jeff’s gaze. One eye was lost in black and puffy folds, but the other imitated a fish’s eye, round and blank before he moved aside to reveal Jusson once more seated at his desk, a neat stack of papers in front of him. And sitting in one of the three guest chairs drawn up in front of the king was Laurel Faena. The mountain cat slued around in his chair, his amber eyes glowing in the candlelight as they met mine.
“Come in, cousin,” Jusson said. “Come in and sit down. Thadro, shut the door.”
Chapter Six
Laurel looked the same as he had the last I’d seen him— which wasn’t surprising as that was yesterday eve. He also looked quite at home as he lounged in his chair. Standing on his back legs, Laurel was a little taller than me; seated he was about the same height as Jusson. His tawny winter fur was coming in full and thick, but as a concession to both the season’s chill and the royal audience, he wore a padded coat of autumnal gold, brown and red, embroidered with gold thread. By his side was his oak staff, as elaborately carved as mine was plain, and adorned with strips of woven cloth, beads and feathers. Beads and feathers also hung from his ears and were worked into his head fur, the feathers as red as the one in my queue. But then, he did give me mine.
Laurel whiskers twitched back in a smile that showed his eyeteeth as he watched me approach. “I give you good evening, Rabbit.”
“Honored Laurel,” I said, just as politely, wondering what the hell was going on. Despite Jeffen standing there, Thadro had shut the door and was now going to his usual post at the king’s back. I started to follow, but Jusson stopped me before I could join the Lord Commander.
“No, cousin.” Jusson pointed at the remaining guest chairs. “Have a seat, if you please.” He waited for me to arrange myself on the opposite end from Laurel, then he sat back. “Our apologies for the late hour, Ambassador Laurel. But events have intervened and this is the first free time we have.”
“I understand, honored king,” Laurel rumbled. “Will we be joined by Captains Suiden and Javes? The Enchanter Wyln?”
I stirred, my wondering turning to panic at the thought that Laurel didn’t know where anyone was. But Jusson ignored my squirming. “Not the captains,” he said. “The town seems to have eased back from its earlier bloodlust, but after their assault on our cousin, our Lord Commander and our guards, we were concerned that they might go after anyone in uniform, so the garrison is under lockdown.” His voice turned dry. “We don’t want anyone else injured— even someone foolhardy enough to attack Suiden.”
Laurel gave a small chuff of a laugh. “I truly understand.”
Jusson tapped the papers that were before him on his desk. “However, both Suiden and Javes have sent reports, and though the injuries Lord Esclaur incurred while in the Borderlands have him recuperating at his family’s estate, he too wrote a very detailed report. As did Vice Admiral Lord Havram ibn Chause. We even received one from Doyen Allwyn, forwarded to us by His Holiness, Patriarch Pietr. Imagine our surprise when we read in all of them that there was another reason why you came to Iversterre. One that had nothing to do with smuggling rings and threatened wars.”
Laurel had been sent by the Border High Council to protest the smuggling ring—the same ring that had been formed by the Council cabal and the House of Dru to foment unrest between Iversterre and the Border. However, he’d also been sent to retrieve a runaway apprentice mage. Me.
“Yes, honored king,” Laurel agreed. “There was another reason.”
“And you didn’t see fit to inform us?” Jusson asked, mildly interested.
“The success of the one rested upon the other,” Laurel said. “If I hadn’t returned with Rabbit, Magus Kareste’s friends on the High Council would’ve declared war because of the smuggling: It seemed that remaining silent was the best way of accomplishing peace.”
“I see,” Jusson said. “Tell us, how did Rabbit react when he discovered that you’d delivered him to Kareste?”
“He was upset,” Laurel admitted.
Upset? I’d done my damnedest to take Laurel apart. But he was bigger, heavier and had a longer reach. Shifting in my chair again, my gaze met Thadro’s. To my surprise, there was nothing of the mud puddle in it.