Count Maton’s guest quarters were opulent by comparison to anything else Marta was familiar with, including the king’s palace at Lythos, and their wardrobes for the scheduled audience were beyond anything Marta had ever worn in her life. Sela had almost balked when she’d seen her own court dress until Marta explained that it was customary for the women of Amurlee to wear daggers on formal occasions. In some circles they were merely badges of status, often made of ivory or whalebone and highly ornamented. There were a few such provided, but Sela found one of layered steel.
“Not as good as my father’s work, but still of very fine make,” she’d said as she examined the blade. “It also has the virtue of being real.”
“Then wear it, if it makes you feel better.”
Now Sela was wearing it, in a jeweled sheathe on a jeweled belt. It added a sort of rakish look to her court dress of blue satin. For her own part, Marta didn’t bother with weapons. In her considered opinion such things were either not going to be needed, or if they were, inadequate for the task.
There was a knock at the door.
“We’re ready,” Marta said. “Come in.”
Count Maton entered. “Lady Callowyn is ready…finally.”
Marta almost smiled. “Was she very difficult?”
“Madame Tarea said that she wasn’t…enthusiastic, shall we say, but felt a little better once she was told she’d be allowed a knife.”
Marta did smile then. “That was pretty much the consensus here as well.”
Count Maton took a breath, let it out slowly. “We will precede her, as discussed.”
Marta frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No…well, yes. I want to compliment you both on the way you look. I know you don’t care, and considering our relationship I feel very awkward doing so, but to me failing to do so is rude.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I don’t care,” Marta said. “A lot of this is new to me, and I wasn’t certain if we were appropriate to the occasion.”
“You both most certainly are.”
“That’s good to know. Very well, we’ll meet you at the gate.”
Count Maton bowed and withdrew from the room.
“That was almost sweet of him,” Sela said. “To the extent that I recognize such things.”
“Rubbish,” Marta said. “I’ve been at court before and so have you. Words are weapons, and they are every courtier’s stock in trade. Even so, I do not believe Count Maton has ulterior motives, other than possibly some relief that we have proved presentable. That is a not insignificant point.”
“My father once told me that the thing to do with a compliment was to accept it, but always consider the source. It kept one from getting a swelled head. Even so, I think Count Maton meant what he said.”
“So do I. Does that matter?”
Sela nodded. “It might, when one gets a compliment from someone where it really matters what they do and do not mean. A good strategist needs to be able to assess any situation accurately.”
“Then let’s hope I’m a good one, because today it’s going to matter quite a bit.”
Count Maton was waiting at the gates to his villa with their carriage, driver, and a mounted escort. There was a second carriage and an even larger escort for Callowyn, including pikemen and mounted archers.
“I’ve entrusted Madame Tarea to make certain that Lady Callowyn is in that carriage at the appointed time. Tarea has my confidence, as do my retainers. Lady Callowyn will be delivered safely to the palace.”
“I respect your judgment,” Marta said. “Shall we go?”
It wasn’t that far to the palace from Maton’s villa, but in such matters Marta understood that there was a proper way to arrive, and on foot was simply not an option. The gates to the palace swung aside as they approached and Count Maton waved to the guards as they passed through. This was Marta’s first close look at the palace itself, which echoed the white spiral architecture of the rest of the city, but on a somewhat grander scale.
“It’s beautiful,” Sela said, looking through the carriage window.
“The audience will be in the main hall. It will not be a full court, which I do not think would serve us in this case. Only his Majesty and his closest counsellors and advisors, as befits a potential negotiation. I have attempted to smooth the way as best I can, but I can only do so much. Plus, Duke Okandis has obviously been alerted and will insist on attending. I won’t pretend to tell you your business, Lady Marta, but that was a risky move.”
“I would not argue the point. I think it was necessary, but we will see. Regardless, you have done all I asked, and I am grateful.”
“It was my obligation,” Count Maton pointed out.
“Which you have fulfilled at great inconvenience to yourself, Excellency, not to mention some unexpected personal risk. I cannot be unaware of that fact, regardless of your obligation. So, for what little it may be worth, thank you.”
Count Maton inclined his head in acknowledgment. “And for what little it may be worth in return, you are quite welcome.”
Sela, still looking out the window, said, “There’s a carriage marked with the arms of Borasur-Morushe. It’s safe to say that Okandis is here.”
“He is, or I don’t know the man at all,” Count Maton said. “If he’s not haranguing his Majesty on the need to join forces against the pirate menace even as we speak, I’m a glazed tart.”
“I suspect,” Marta said, “that you are not.”
The three of them were ushered through a side door, then down a long corridor to the main audience hall. It reminded Marta of the Royal Library, only longer, narrower, and with a throne on a raised dais on the far end. There were tapestries, statues and other artwork which Marta would have loved the chance to examine in a more leisurely fashion, but there was no time. A portly, balding man was indeed haranguing the court from in front of the throne. Marta didn’t need to hear much of what he was saying to draw the obvious conclusion.
“…here in our midst, in the company of a known witch! Who knows what evil that harpy has planned to shatter your peace, Majesty!”
Duke Okandis, I presume.
“I might have a thing or two to say on the matter of the king’s peace,” muttered Count Maton as he escorted Marta and Sela through the gathered nobles. They stopped at a respectful distance and Count Maton bowed. Marta and then Sela, following his example, curtseyed.
“Ah, Count Maton. I believe this is the matter you spoke of,” said the king. “And who are these charming ladies?”
“May I present Lady Marta of Lythos and Lady Sela. They are also concerned in the matter of the Five Isles.”
The king stroked his beard. “Indeed. These events grow more interesting by the moment.”
“See, Majesty, nobles, it is as I have said!” Okandis’ smile was pure triumph. Marta chose to ignore him for the moment as she got her first good look at King Elion V of Conmyre. He was younger than she had assumed, perhaps about thirty, a very hale and vibrant-looking man. His black hair and short beard were peppered with white, but no more than that. Aside from an ornate crown, his clothing was of fine quality but more simple than Marta would have expected from her previous experience with the court at Lythos.
“May I speak?” Marta asked.
“Of course,” the king said, “though we would advise you to speak well. Duke Okandis has made some very serious allegations.”
“Most of which, Your Majesty, are likely to be true.”
At Marta’s words the assembled nobles, silent before now, began to mutter to themselves, and the king held up a hand for silence. Marta continued.
“It’s true, I am a witch. My mother was Black Kath of Lythos, and as you’re no doubt aware she visited Amurlee on several occasions. Yet to my knowledge there was no instance where she worked against Your Majesty’s interests. If I am mistaken, I humbly accept your correction.”
“We are not aware of any such incidents,” the king said, looking thoughtful.
“Until now!” Duke Okandis said, but the king shot him a look and he fell silent. He did not appear, however, in the least bit chastised. Rather, he appeared to be a man on the verge of fulfilling his fondest dream.
“Again, what the good duke has stated is so, I have brought a representative of the Five Isles to Amurlee. Boranac wishes an end to the hostilities between the Five Isles and the mainland kingdoms. What better place to begin than Conmyre?”
“We do not think we should negotiate with pirates,” the king said, to more muttering. Softer, this time.
Marta inclined her head. “Then, Majesty, may I ask how better to end piracy and forge a more mutually beneficial understanding? The Five Isles has been a hazard to shipping for nearly five hundred years. If there was another way, shouldn’t it have worked by now?”
“Your pardon, Majesty,” Duke Okandis said. “But I have just such a way, as I have said.”
“Which will cost the lives of many of our subjects and your countrymen,” Elion said. “Even if it does work.”
“The price will be high,” Okandis said. “And no one regrets the loss of life more than I. But to put an end to the pirates once and for all? Generations yet unborn will praise your role in it.”
The king frowned. “We are not yet convinced of that,” he said. “Especially since at least some of those generations won’t have a chance to be born.”
There were one or two chuckles from the assemblage, and Okandis scowled. “Are you really going to listen to this…this witch?”
“He needn’t do so,” Marta said. “As I am not the representative. May I send for her?”
The king was looking thoughtful again. “Please do.”
Marta whispered to Maton, who withdrew toward the rear of the hall.
“Yes, bring her forward!” Okandis said. “The person responsible for so much of my—I mean your own, losses. The blood-thirsty harpy that terrorizes the coast, that criminal hag! Your best response would be to clap her in irons and have her head sent back to her black-hearted father! There simply is no—“
Duke Okandis, for the moment swept away by his own eloquence, kept speaking even though hardly anyone, including the king, was listening to him. All eyes were on Callowyn as she glided across the floor on the arm of Count Maton.
She is stunning.
Marta herself had proposed the transformation, but even she had not realized its full impact until now. Callowyn’s dress was green brocade with golden threadwork and seed pearls, and her hair had been fashioned in the latest style. Again, Maton’s help and connections, this time with the royal tailor and dressmakers, had proved crucial. If there was a trace of the pirate captain now in Callowyn’s dress or demeanor, Marta could not see it. Nor, apparently could anyone else.
Duke Okandis was still speaking directly to the king as Callowyn approached.
“Now we have the chance to bring this insane, demonic creature to jus—“
Marta saw Callowyn smile. Marta recognized that smile—it was one that Marta had once seen on the face of an executioner as he sharpened his axe.
“Your Grace, am I really as frightening as all that?”
There were no chuckles this time. The entire assemblage, save for the king, Marta, Sela, Callowyn, and Duke Okandis himself, burst into laughter. Count Maton joined in with a certain vicious satisfaction.
Well struck, Captain, Marta thought.
Okandis was stunned to silence, but he quickly attempted a recovery. “Your Majesty, don’t be fooled—“
“We are usually not,” Elion said softly.
Callowyn saw her moment. “Your Majesty, I am Callowyn, daughter to Boranac of the Five Isles. Clearly I am in your power, and you may do with me as you see fit. Yet you must know that my father will not ransom me nor submit himself to gain my release. If I am to bear the retribution of past wrongs, so be it, but my father’s desire for a new understanding, a new relationship with the kingdoms of the mainland is a sincere one. Will you talk to us?”
“Your Majesty—“ Duke Okandis began, but Elion cut him off.
“We have heard your thoughts on this matter, Your Grace,” the king said. “I think now, perhaps, we will listen to someone else for a bit.”
“Your Majesty, it is my duty to tell you that Borasur-Morushe will never agree—“
This time it was another who interrupted the duke. “My good Uncle, do I need to remind you that it is I who speak for my father in the court of King Elion?”
Prince Dolan stood just at the edge of the circle of nobles. Marta was reasonably certain that he had not been there from the beginning, but even she wasn’t certain when he had arrived.
That man needs watching, Marta thought. It wasn’t the first time that particular thought had crossed her mind.
“That is more than a technicality, Your Grace must concede,” the king said to Okandis. He then turned to the Prince. “As your father’s appointed representative, what does our cousin of Borasur-Morushe say in this matter?”
“With all due respect to my royal uncle,” Prince Dolan said. “I believe my father would want us to hear what Lady Callowyn has to say.”
“Then we are agreed—Yes, Lady Callowyn, we will talk with you. Before we all withdraw to our council chambers, is there any more business before this court?”
“There is one matter,” Count Maton said. “Yesterday evening several armed men invaded my villa. I will simply note that I may have to bring the matter back before the court at some point.”
“Yes, we had heard something of this. We are pleased that you were not hurt,” King Elion said. “And outraged that one of this kingdom’s most respected advisors would be subjected to such treatment. Who could have done such a thing?”
“Likely it will remain a mystery,” Duke Okandis said, forcing a smile.
“Perhaps not, Your Grace,” Maton said, and his smile was not the least bit forced. “One of the miscreants was taken alive, and I have been…talking, to him, as time allowed since the event. He already has interesting things to say, I assure you.”
“Are you prepared to name the person responsible?” the king asked, and Maton bowed.
“Not at this time, Majesty, and possibly the trail will go cold. But if I do need to bring a name to your attention, rest assured that I will have evidence for any assertion I make, and trust in your justice,” Count Maton said, though his gaze was squarely on Duke Okandis, who was now sweating, and not just from his exertions during his speech.
“Be certain that you do so,” the king said. “Now if you will be so kind as to accompany us to chambers, Count. Also Prince Dolan, as this matter does concern Borasur-Morushe as well. Lady, or perhaps I should say Princess, Callowyn?”
Callowyn didn’t even blink. “After you, Majesty.”
The king rose and the assembly all bowed, but Elion stepped down from the dais and offered Callowyn his arm. “Oh, I think we can do better than that.”
As the others filed out, either leaving or taking their places by Elion’s side, Sela turned to Marta.
“Shouldn’t we go with them?”
“My remit was to help Callowyn successfully open negotiations. That is clearly done. I think she is more than capable of concluding them on her own. Besides, I have my own business to attend to.”
“Longfeather?” Sela asked.
“Longfeather,” Marta confirmed. “For a start.”
Sela’s smile showed not a trace of humor. “Do you mind if I watch?”
“No, but it will not be pleasant. You might not enjoy it,” Marta said.
“Will he enjoy it?”
“Not in the least.”
Sela nodded. “In which case I certainly will.”
Ω
11 sowing and reaping
“In years to come, if people speak of me at all, they will say that I was an evil man, and at any given moment I might agree with them. However, I would be forced to quibble if anyone went on to suggest that I was ever less than fair.” – Tym
on the Black
The following afternoon Marta strode with purpose through the streets of Amurlee, heading west. Sela was finding it difficult to keep pace. Bonetapper, scouting ahead on his raven wings, was not having that problem.
“Duke Okandis’ villa is in this part of the city, then? What is your plan?” Sela asked.
“I don’t have one,” Marta said.
“We can’t just barge into Duke Okandis’ villa—“
“Actually, we can do exactly that. He’s not there, by the way. Pity about that. I wanted a word with him.”
“How do you know he’s not there?”
“Count Maton started a rumor that he wasn’t going to bother the king’s justice with such a trifling matter as the attack on his home. He was simply going to challenge Okandis to a judicial duel. If the good duke is not halfway to Balanar even as we speak, I’ll be amazed.”
“How—oh. You told Count Maton to do so, didn’t you?”
Marta demurred. “No, since Count Maton is no longer in my service, though I did agree with his reasoning. As I said, I wouldn’t have minded a word with Okandis, but that indulgence might have delayed matters. I am not of a mind to do that. Best for everyone concerned that he is no longer underfoot.”
Sela paused for a moment, which forced her into a brief trot to catch up. “Wait…Maton is no longer your servant?”
“I asked quite a lot of him over the last several days, and I felt the debt bond between us break during King Elion’s court. Adding that word to the king of a possible witness and investigation was the final act of his service, I think. Count Maton’s idea, not mine, but he knew his business and it was the final tug that defanged the duke for good and all.”
“I’d have thought Callowyn’s appearance in that dress would have been more than enough,” Sela said. “I had the feeling that, if this had been a ball, half the men there would have been asking her for the favor of a dance, no matter who her father was.”
Marta stopped then, and turned to face Sela. “That is possible, but I think you misunderstand what happened there.”
Sela frowned. “Then why did you put Callowyn in that dress to start with, if not to portray her feminine charms? If she’d come to the court in her usual attire, I think the result would have been very different.”
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