Glasswrights' Journeyman (13 page)

Mair saved Rani from fumbling for a response. “You need Morenia's greatest negotiator to drive a contract for Berylina? Isn't she the girl with teeth like a rabbit?”

“Rumors about her appearance have been exaggerated,” Hal said through a set jaw. As if from a distance, Rani saw Hal turn from Mair and reach for her hand, catch it between his own. “Please, Rani. I need you beside me in Liantine. Say you'll travel with me.”

Hal's fingers trembled against hers. His voice caught in his throat, and she wondered if his emotion was merely because he feared what would happen to Morenia in the hands of the Fellowship and Dartulamino's church. She did not allow herself to worry about that, though. Her king was asking for her. Her country needed her. Princesses and fellows, they could not do for Morenia all the things that she could. After all, she was the merchant who had broken Amanthia's hold on the Little Army. She was the negotiator who had brought in the builders and masons, the workers who were even now rebuilding Moren. Hal had seen the danger of negotiating without her – he knew that he had been out-bargained by Dartulamino and the old Holy Father. Rani had been chagrined to be left out of that work; she could hardly refuse to join forces with Hal now.

Even if now he was going to Liantine. Even if now he was going to bid for a bride.

“Aye,” she whispered at last. “I'll come to Liantine.”

Hal's lips were warm across the back of her hand, but Rani shivered as she tucked away her black Fellowship hood. Other men had kissed her like that. Crestman had. Crestman would journey with them to Liantine. Crestman and Hal. The Little Army and Berylina. And over all, the pall of debt to the church. And to the Fellowship.

Rani followed Mair into Moren's burned out streets. No matter how close she pulled her cloak, she could not still the tremors that crept along her spine.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

Hal swayed on his feet as he glanced around the Great Hall of Liantine, trying not to appear overly impressed. After ten days at sea, he was still growing accustomed to the feel of solid ground underfoot. Farsobalinti reached out a steadying hand, but Hal shrugged off the attention.

He had lost precious time departing Morenia, unable to leave before receiving formal news of the Holy Father's death, then delayed by official mourning and ceremonies. Provisions needed to be loaded aboard his finest ocean-going ship, and Hal had consulted with advisors regarding appropriate gifts for Princess Berylina. He might have convinced Rani to travel with him and to lend her expertise, but he would not ask her to woo Berylina directly. If this journey came to wooing. If Hal decided that was the best course for Morenia.

He had also needed to consult with Crestman, to learn all that he could about the Little Army's presence in Liantine. Hal had studied endless charts and obscure notations, messages from Crestman's scouts who had indicated where children were being held and how they were being put to use. He had even checked with Davin to determine what he could about the children's usefulness to Liantine daily life. The old man had only offered sour conclusions, maintaining that the Army boys were too wild for life in any civilized society.

In the end, nearly a month had passed before Hal was prepared to travel. The delay had permitted him to see the hasty completion of the firelung hospital and the installation of the Touched victims. Even that accomplishment proved hollow, though. Thousands of Touched had succumbed to the dread disease, and now there were reports of stricken merchants and guildsmen, too. Even a handful of nobles and soldiers had contracted firelung. Everywhere Hal turned, he heard demands for herbs and poultices, for sturdy walls and warm, dry blankets. Every request jangled with the sound of golden coins – coins that he should be hoarding to repay the church. Coins that he had no choice but to spend upon his kingdom.

At least he managed to flee Morenia before Dartulamino's formal investiture as Holy Father. That ceremony would take extensive planning, and it would not be held until the end of summer. The church seemed satisfied to dispatch a single priest to accompany the royal party, one Father Siritalanu. Hal wondered how often the young religious was expected to report back to his superiors.

So, messengers to Liantine had preceded the royal travelers from Morenia, bearing Hal's greetings and his first, tentative letter to Princess Berylina. Arrival dates had been fixed and welcome feasts promised.

But Hal had complicated all of that by arriving sooner than expected, the beneficiary of tremendous spring winds that had filled his ship's sails and hurtled him across the ocean. The flustered Liantine harbor-master had met him at the dock, conveying the royal party to the Great Hall with a combination of exasperation and chagrin. Hal left behind the majority of his retainers, along with his sea captain, ordering his people to arrange for the transport of his possessions, diplomatic gifts, and other treasures to King Teheboth's Great Hall.

To Crestman, Hal had given specific orders. The Amanthian was to wait on board Hal's ship. He was not to show his face in Liantine. He was not to risk his temper before formal negotiations could commence.

So Hal now stood in the Great Hall, trying not to feel like an interloper. The long room was the most ornate chamber that Hal had ever seen. Great lengths of spidersilk swooped from the ceiling, billowing out to cover the roofbeams. The fabric was dyed an intense emerald green, the color of Liantine, and a delicate silver thread ran through the cloth, subtle reminder of the kingdom's coat of arms. Silk panels on the walls repeated the theme, but the silver threadwork was more obvious there – Hal could make out the rampant dragon that was the Liantine emblem, repeated over and over again by tireless weavers on endless looms.

Every inch of wall space was covered by the rich silk – even the doorways were masked by heavy curtains. The effect was smothering, even while it commanded respect. Hal reminded himself that King Teheboth intended to intimidate visitors to his court, intended to cow the Morenians and anyone else who came to do business in Liantine. That reminder, did little good as Hal calculated the wealth draped about the room. The number of octolaris it would take to create so much silk. … The hundreds of people who would need to harvest the silk, and to clean it, spin it, weave it. …

Hal shifted from foot to foot, more than a little ill at ease that no Liantine official had stayed to welcome them. The harbor-master had tugged at his ear and returned to his labor, dispatching a boy to find someone – anyone – who had the prestige to meet a visiting king.

Hal's reverie was interrupted by the chatter of Mair and Rani behind him. “And then I
told him. …” Mair was saying, clearly recounting some prior conversation. Most likely a
conversation with Farsobalinti, Hal mused in irritation. The nobleman was watching the Touched girl
with an indulgent smile on his face.

“Enough!” Hal said, making both girls jump. “You can continue your gossip later!”

Farso stepped forward as Mair started to retort, but Rani laid a silencing hand on her friend's arm. Hal was grateful for that modicum of support, but he resented the fact that Mair needed to be restrained by anyone. Touched or no, she should understand the etiquette of their situation. Before he could make an acid comment, a length of the green silk in front of him was swept to one side, revealing a doorway that Hal had not even suspected.

Apparently unaware of the royal visitors, a girl stepped into the receiving hall. She glanced over her shoulder as she moved, her motions furtive, as if she were hiding from someone on the other side of the curtain. She raised pale hands to her hair, tucking her loose tresses behind her ears with an automatic rhythm, more the motion of a child than a young woman. Her hair was as straight as a horse's tail and glossy in the flickering torchlight, gleaming black so deep it seemed blue. The color set off her milky skin.

Hal cleared his throat to announce his group's presence, regretting the girl's startled jump. His regret, though, froze as he was pinned by eyes the color of cornflowers. A high blush stained the girl's pale, pale cheeks, and she raised a hand to her lips, swallowing a startled cry. Her eyes flicked to Hal's crimson and gold, to the lion emblem stitched carefully across his chest. “My lord!” she said, dropping into a swift curtsey. Her hair slipped from behind her ears, only to be returned by the impatient, automatic flick of her fingers.

Hal forced himself not to think about those long pale fingers, not to think about her lustrous hair. He vowed not to realize that her head scarcely came to his chest. She was barely older than a child, looked scarcely old enough to wear the shimmering spidersilk kirtle that glowed in the room as if lit from within. He told himself not to notice the turn of the slender foot that peeked beneath the hem of the girl's sapphire skirt. A sapphire skirt that echoed the color of her eyes. …

“My lady,” he finally remembered to say, and he managed a courtly bow. He was vaguely aware that Farso aped his action, and that Rani and Mair had inclined their heads in gentlewomen's formal curtseys.

“I – we – my lord we were not aware that you had arrived yet. You should not have been left alone here in the Great Hall. You'll think all Liantines are boors!”

“Hardly, my lady.” Hal smiled at her concern. “Kel blessed us as we crossed the ocean. We arrived sooner than we expected.”

“King Teheboth –” the girl began.

“I understand –” Hal started at the same time, and they laughed at the confusion.

Hal gestured for the girl to continue, and she swallowed before she said, “King Teheboth is not in the palace. He's ridden in search of the Horned Hind.”

“The Horned Hind?”

“Aye. The Spring Hunt is today.” At Hal's puzzled glance, she continued. “It's a Liantine custom. On the first day of spring, the king rides forth at dawn, in search of the Horned Hind.”

“A
horned
hind? But no female deer bears antlers!”

“No female deer of
our
world.” The girl smiled. “The Horned Hind is holy. She is sacred. She holds the world within the basket of her antlers.”

“Then it must be unwise to hunt her, lest the world be dropped like an egg.”

The girl's laugh was as light as the spidersilk she wore, and Hal found a silly grin spreading across his own lips. She said, “My lord, you jest. King Teheboth slays the Horned Hind on the first hunt of every spring. Her blood restores all Liantine and guarantees the house of Thunderspear will rule another year.”

The laughing words shivered through Hal. If the girl had been older, if she had been more schooled in the subtle ways of politics, she might be giving him a warning. She might be telling him that Liantine had ambitions and goals, had intentions to protect its power in all the world. But she was scarcely more than a child. She must be repeating the lessons, religious and civil, that she had heard all her life. Hal retreated to a safe compliment.

“My companions and I were admiring the silk wall hangings.”

A flash of emotion darted across the girl's eyes, smoky fire that was smothered in a single breath. “Aye, my lord, they are new. They were only hung a fortnight ago, in honor of my brother's wedding.”

Hal heard the slight catch in her voice before the girl said “brother”, and he
wondered at the pretty flush that stained her cheeks once again. Her brother's wedding. King
Teheboth's fourth son had wed but two weeks before, taking vows with a woman in the mysterious
spiderguild. The nuptials had been planned quickly, with little pomp. A fourth son was of no great
account in a sprawling royal family. No great account to the royals, that was. But certainly a great
coup for a guild. The spiderguild must have tasked its greatest masters with crafting the endless
field of silk that draped the room.

Even as Hal recalculated the verdant hangings, the girl's words sank into his skull. King Teheboth's youngest son was this creature's brother. This extraordinary girl must be Berylina – the rabbit-toothed, cross-eyed princess of Liantine.

Hal's ridiculous grin spread as he remembered Duke Puladarati's cool disclaimers that rumors about Berylina had been exaggerated. Exaggerated, indeed. They had been bald-faced lies. “My lady,” he began, bowing again.

“I'm sorry, my lord,” she said at the same time. “It is not proper for me to stand here speaking to you. With King Teheboth gone to the hunt, you should be received by Lord Shalindor, the king's chamberlain.” The beautiful creature glanced across the room, taking in Rani and Mair with her violet eyes, flicking over Farsobalinti. “I'll send a boy to fetch Lord Shalindor.”

“The harbor-master has already sent someone, my lady.”

“Has he? Very well, then. Lord Shalindor should arrive at any instant. While you wait, allow me to show your maidservants to your quarters, my lord. They can begin to prepare your apartments for your comfort.”

Hal's eyes flashed to Rani and Mair, and he caught the indignant words blossoming in Rani's throat. He knew exactly what she would have said if they'd been alone. She must not be discounted as a mere servant, not if she were going to bargain on his behalf. Not if she were to have any credibility negotiating with the Liantines for the Little Army, for Berylina herself.

Hal started to clear his throat, strangely reluctant to make the clarification to the softly smiling princess. Before he could speak, though, Mair stepped forward. “We're no servants, my lady.”

Once again, the dark-haired creature blushed prettily. She looked at Hal in apparent confusion, and his heart went out to her. After all, how was she to know who accompanied him in his travels? How was she to know the positions in the Morenian court? It
was
odd for a king to travel with a merchant and a Touched girl. Heightening the confusion, Mair looked particularly coarse, with her hair still tangled from the sea breeze and her cloak stained with salt water. Rani had at least donned a gown of Morenian crimson, but Mair had taken no steps to disguise her Touched background.