The Return of Nightfall (44 page)

“I didn’t come by road,” Nightfall informed them, almost snootily. “I came by ship.”

The second guard cringed. “Worse, sir. There are pirates about.”

“Pirates, you say.” Nightfall took some satisfaction from uttering the very word he had promised not to, in a safe manner and location. He glanced at his companion, as if from concern, taking note of the unladylike hostile glare he received in return. He shook off the warning. “Thank you, gentlemen, but my crew can fight. It’s part of their job to handle any . . .
pirates
.”

“Very well, then, sir.” The guards exchanged glances but did not inflict the indignity of a search upon them. Apparently, they had orders to take highborns at their word. Nightfall carried no obvious weaponry, and he doubted anything short of a naked search would reveal his daggers. He had no intention of using them anyway. “Do you need instructions?”

Uncertain what the guard meant, Nightfall assumed he did. “Please.”

The guard cleared his throat, apparently using a prepared speech. He walked a fine line; the arrogance of nobility and visiting dignitaries necessitated caution. The guards would not force them to endure a speech they felt too familiar with or important to need. However, leaving them without the proper means to find or address the court might prove equally humiliating. “When you leave this room out that door,” he pointed to the only other exit from the room, “you will find yourself right outside the court. We apologize if you find others waiting at the door ahead of you. We cannot always accurately guess the length of any particular audience. Rest assured, the order of your appearance is based solely on when we received your request rather than rank or worth.”

Nightfall nodded, seeing the necessity for the disclaimer. He could just picture some duke shoving aside a knight standing ahead of him.

“The king is not currently in residence; so you will be seen by an appointee, in this case Lord Admiral Nikolei Neerchus. Please understand that any judgment, agreement, or treaty made by him is as binding as if it came from the king himself. If you prefer to wait until the king’s return, you may reschedule without any loss of significance.” The guard waited a moment, giving Nightfall a chance to opt out of the audience.

Nightfall doubted many men did.

“The proper title is Lord, Lord Admiral, Admiral, Sire, Your Majesty, Your Grace, or Your Highness.” He paused for breath. “It is customary to bow, and it is considered a grave insult to speak before you have been addressed. Any questions?”

Nightfall could not think of any, though he knew he had received the short version of royal protocol. Nobles had written entire tomes on the topic. He shook his head.

The guard nodded smartly. “Very well, sir. You may proceed.” He tripped the latch on the exit door.

Nightfall went through it, followed by the captain. They emerged in front of the familiar great double doors and found themselves the only ones waiting. The guards stationed in front of the court wore their fanci est uniforms, every crease perfect and not a stain, tear, or worn spot to be seen. They pretended to stare straight forward, though they sneaked glimpses at the newcomers from the corners of their eyes.

“You’d better know what you’re doing,” the captain whispered from the edge of his mouth.

Nightfall kept his reply equally below the level of the guards’ hearing. “You’re the one who insisted on accompanying me.”

The captain made a soft hiss, covered by the sound of the doors bursting open. A twitchy, rat-faced noble in damp silks left the courtroom, escorted by two guards who looked enough like the ones at the doors to stand as twins. No longer statues, the sentries gestured for Nightfall and the captain to accompany them inside.

As Nightfall marched down the purple carpetway, he chased off the memories assailing him. He was Balshaz, and the finery of the court was a new experience that should evoke only curiosity. He had nothing to fear here. He glanced casually through the audience of nobles on the benches, which seemed as numerous as the crowd that had attended Sudian’s first and only day on the throne. He wondered why so many of highborn lineage had suddenly become interested in affairs of court, and suspected it had something to do with the looming civil war. He recognized all of the other four members of the High Council in the front row and also managed to spy Kelryn, one of only a scant handful of women present. Her beauty drew his gaze, like the relentless obsession of a moth to flame; but he forced himself to give her nothing but a casual, searching glance.

On the dais, Lord Admiral Nikolei Neerchus dwarfed adviser Khanwar, who held the chancellor’s seat. Nightfall’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the dark and slender man who had belittled his own short time as ruling chancellor, and had shoved Kelryn and nearly lost his life for it. The other two men who had assisted Nightfall during his time in court occupied lesser places: Charson behind and to the admiral’s left, Vivarick on the floor in Khanwar’s old position. Guards lined the periphery, dressed in their usual colors over obvious mail. Nightfall was glad to see Volkmier among them, his prison colors looking faded amid the sharper purples and silvers of the regular guard. He looked older to Nightfall, as if he had gained years in the weeks since Sudian’s escape. Yet he stood with proper decorum, his head high and his expression properly schooled.

King Edward’s finest fit Nikolei admirably, both men massive examples of Alyndarian manhood; yet it bothered Nightfall to see this imposter sit so comfortably in the king’s chair and wardrobe.

Nightfall noticed all this in the daylight floating through the high windows as he and the captain walked down the carpeted aisleway in silence, their escort clomping along beside them. In comparison, they both appeared as light and graceful as women, and Nightfall stopped the proper distance from the dais, taking the captain’s hand to bring him to a halt as well. He could feel a callused, deeply lined palm through the elegant fabric of the glove. Beside him, his companion stiffened at the touch.

Nightfall made a deep bow, without the formal flourishes he had only seen and never executed. The captain made an awkward curtsy. Though he knew the proper formality from his early years, he had surely concentrated on the more manly gestures of respect.

The admiral studied the pair. “Name yourselves, strangers.”

Nightfall bowed again. “Sire, I am the merchant Balshaz, and this—”

The admiral interrupted, his gaze intent on the captain. “You’re quite beautiful, young lady.”

The captain executed a second curtsy.

“Might I know your name as well?”

Nightfall glanced fretfully at his silent companion, then remembered he had insisted on doing all of the talking. “Her name is Zenia, my lord.”

Nikolei frowned. “I asked the lady,” he said in cold warning. The audience fell into a tense hush.

Nightfall bowed lower. “With all due respect, Sire, she won’t answer you. She’s—” He wanted to say “mute,” but that seemed like a bad strategy. Not only would he have to give a reason for such an odd defect, but several people had heard the captain speak on the streets and in the inn. “—paid me to do all her talking for her. You see, she has little knowledge or understanding of nobility, so she worries she might mistakenly insult someone. And she feels I should earn the money she paid me.”

The admiral frowned. “Does she know it is exceptionally rude to ignore the direct address of a superior?”

When the captain remained quiet, lips stoically pinched, Nightfall sighed. “The ways of the highborn are mysteries to most commoners.”

“Yes, well. I could stop my court until she deigns to speak.”

Nightfall whispered to the captain, “What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

“I’m only following your orders,” the captain hissed back.

Nightfall had not anticipated a stubborn match of will but supposed he deserved it. He was suffering the payback for snapping orders at the captain in front of his men and for his “pirate” exchange with the guard. “Yes, Sire, of course you could. But, in my experience, it’s easier to defeat the sun, moon, and stars than win a war of wills with a lady. We may stand in stalemate for days.”

“So we may.” The admiral laughed, and the courtiers seemed to loose a collective breath. “Very well, then. You may perform the job for which she’s paying you.” He leaned forward, elbow on his thigh, chin resting on his palm. “What is it the Lady Zenia asks of me with the tongue of a merchant?”

Nightfall appreciated the return of the court to business. “She believes herself related to a man currently residing in your dungeon. She would like to check on his condition, assure herself of his relatedness, and, if appropriate, pay any fine or reckoning due for him.”

Nikolei nodded at the simple request. “It seems doubtful such a handsome woman could have scoundrels for relations.”

Nightfall ignored the irony. “Every family tree has rotten limbs, Sire.”

The captain elbowed Nightfall. “Not funny.”

“Alas, that’s true.” Admiral Nikolei Neerchus glanced around his court. “And who is this lady’s unfortunate miscreant?”

Nightfall chose the name of a thief he knew would spend considerable time imprisoned. “His name is Horrat, Sire. Is he here?”

The admiral frowned, the lines deeply chiseled into his rugged face. He glanced at the chief of the prison guards.

Volkmier nodded curtly.

The admiral turned back to his visitors. “Incarcerated here, yes. What does the lady wish to know of him?”

Nightfall considered his next words, needing to maneuver people into the proper positions without appearing to do so. “She wishes to see and speak with him, Your Majesty.”

The captain whispered through clenched teeth. “No, I don’t.”

Nightfall ignored him. “To ascertain that he is, indeed, kin and to ask his opinion on his treatment.”

“Do you think me an idiot?” The captain’s breathing quickened, though he still kept his voice pitched as low as possible. “I’m not walking into any dungeon.”

“I am,” Nightfall whispered back, not liking the prospect much better than his companion. “And you’re going with me.”

“Make me.”

Nightfall wanted to throttle the captain. Clearly, the displaced noble had experience carrying on subvocal conversations in the middle of court, but Nightfall found it dangerously distracting. “If you spoil my plan now, we’re both dead.”

The captain sounded more intrigued than intimidated. “How so?”

The admiral’s voice seemed loud as thunder over the whispered exchange. “What is she saying to you, merchant?”

Nightfall immediately threw his attention back to the man on the dais, seeking a way to bend the situation to his advantage. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Sire. Apparently, Zenia knows someone living in Alyndar Castle who may also bear relation to Horrat. I’m trying to explain to her it’s not necessary to bring up such a matter. It might embarrass the other person, and it won’t gain us any special favors.” Nightfall braced himself, hoping curiosity would prove more powerful than his own argument against revealing the name.

The admiral walked neatly into his trap. “Well, I see no harm in indulging the lady. As you said, every family tree has rotten branches. Who is this kin to a thief?”

Nightfall tried to sound uncomfortable about revealing a dirty secret. “Her name is Kelryn.”

“How so?” the captain demanded again, as if the conversation between the admiral and his companion had never occurred.

Forced to address the captain, Nightfall did so quickly and faintly, “Trust me.”

The captain muttered, “The two most dangerous words in any human language.”

“Lady Kelryn?” the admiral repeated.

Nightfall shifted gears again. Bouncing between two conversations, he worried to make a fatal mistake in either. “I believe she has an uncle, named Skerrit, with an illegitimate son who is cousin to both my lady and Horrat.” He chose the name of a real person, the brother of Kelryn’s father. He could not afford the possibility that Kelryn might refuse to join them.

All eyes fell on Kelryn, who blushed so deeply her skin made a startling contrast to her snow-colored hair. “I do have an uncle by that name,” she admitted. “I don’t know anything about an illegitimate son, but I’m certainly willing to talk to Lady Zenia and Horrat about the possibility.”

“I am
not
just going to trust you,” the captain whispered.

Nightfall had enough to orchestrate without dealing with the captain’s understandable, but exasperating, wariness. “Fine. Then you explain to the Navy Admiral of Alyndar why we traveled across the sea to lie to him.”

“I will.”

“And lose the only chance to examine Alyndar’s dungeon from outside a cell?”

Despite his threat, the captain of the
Seaworthy
remained silent.

The admiral cleared his throat. “Your lady is still concerned about something?”

Again, Nightfall seized the opportunity. “Yes, Sire. She’s worried about being a lady amongst . . .” He could not think of a proper term, “. . . dungeon folk.”

Nikolei addressed the captain directly, his tone gentle. “You need not worry, my dear. The bad men are safely locked behind bars, and we have guards to keep you safe.”

Not finished with his job, Nightfall continued, “Begging your pardon, Sire, but she’s concerned that dungeon guards tend to be lonely men, too.”

Laughter tittered through the courtroom.

Even the admiral smiled.

Volkmier’s voice wafted over the laughter, without a hint of humor. His men, after all, were the butt of the joke. “May I speak, please, Admiral?”

Still grinning, Nikolei made a gesture of assent.

Volkmier bowed. “I could escort Lady Zenia personally, if you can spare me. I will keep the ladies and the . . .” He clearly struggled for the proper adjective. Down-to-earth warriors tended to see soft-handed merchants as effeminate. “. . . frailish gentleman safe from anything worrying them.”