“Was he part of this rebellion also?” the Fyrst asked.
“No, Your Grace,” Uncle Havram said before I could respond, his mouth like a wound. “Nothing so noble. My brother just likes his silver.”
I took another deep breath. “I am also close kin to Teram ibn Flavan. He’s the son of my mother’s brother.” In the abrupt quiet of the room I could hear the wind outside start to pick up, whistling a bit as it gusted around the buildings of the keep.
“May I ask why Slevoic was here, Your Grace?” Javes finally asked, breaking the silence.
“That’s something for the High Council to answer,” the Fyrst said, his face as remote and cold as it was when we first saw him in his hall. He turned his head again to look at Laurel. “All this you kept from me, Faena. Why?”
Laurel’s ears were against his skull as he indicated the haunt-crowded room. “Did you know, Your Grace, that these are from just one shipment of—goods?” He nodded at Honor’s haunt standing next to my chair. “I left Honor Ash Faena alive and well, but when I reached Iversly, I found her body already there, seasoned and fashioned into a church Staff of Office. With bells. As Rabbit Two Trees’son has said again and again—for five years the High Council couldn’t find the runners preying on its people? On this scale?” He rumbled deep in his chest. “And just how did these runners manage to kill a Faena?” Both Loran and Wyln turned to look at Honor, frowns gathering on their faces.
“I also found out upon my arrival in Iversly that King Jusson had no intention of repudiating the treaty between Iversterre and us,” Laurel said. “In fact, when honored Jusson discovered that the treaty had been violated, he charged me to find a way to prevent war.”
“What are you saying, Faena?” the Fyrst asked, his frown deepening.
“Then I further discover that not only is Dragoness Moraina one of the treaty signers,” Laurel said, ignoring His Grace’s question, “but that she also carried on a correspondence with King Jusson’s great-grandsire.”
“What?” All remoteness fled as the Fyrst pushed himself out of his chair and stood staring down at Laurel, while Wyln shook his head slowly.
Laurel’s eyes glowed. “But am I told this? Am I told any of it? No. Instead, I’m sent off to search for Rabbit in the back mountains of the human kingdom. I’m even kept away from Veldecke, where there was a rape and murder of a fae—and, though the Faena who strode there knew who did it, he took no one.” The Fyrst and Wyln turned their heads to Groskin, who flinched.
“Oh, no, Your Grace,” Laurel said. “He was the only one present who hadn’t, and he was punished for naming who did.” He settled back in his chair. “You say I’ve kept things from you. Well, I suppose that’s true. But I’m saving my questions and comments for the full Council.” Laurel’s whiskers swept back to show his eyeteeth. “Then I will question everyone most diligently, even the Council representative for the dark elves.”
“Will you?” Wyln asked, his flame-filled eyes matching Laurel’s amber stare.
“No, Wyln,” the Fyrst said, putting his hand on the Enchanter’s shoulder, and Wyln subsided. “The Faena can ask all the questions he wants, for I am very interested in the answers.” It fell silent again and in the quiet we could hear trumpets. The Fyrst looked over at the window. “More of the Council arriving. I shall have to go greet them.” He looked back at us. “The only way a secret between two can be kept is for one to be dead—”
A very faint smile came over Javes’ face.
“—and even that is not certain.” The Fyrst started to turn to leave. “Still, I’d ask that we keep what was discussed here—” He broke off as he caught sight of the guard sent to get Captain Suiden still standing in the room. His eyes went to the open door and the other guards bunched there staring back at us.
One stepped forward and then stopped, blocked by the haunts. “Slaves, Your Grace?” he asked.
The Fyrst hesitated, then nodded. “It appears so.”
A moaning sigh ran through the guards, echoed in the wind outside. “Sold in the Turalian slave markets,” another whispered, and Suiden’s face clouded with shame.
The trumpets sounded again and the Fyrst once more looked at the window. “Even more arriving. At this rate the Council will soon be fully assembled and the Faena can ask his questions.” He faced Wyln. “I have to go down and greet the new arrivals who, I’m sure, will also request to see Two Trees’son. If any such requests come to you, turn them down.”
Wyln nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
The Fyrst turned to me. “You will stay close to your Cyhn, young human. Even better if you stay close to both your Cyhn and the Faena. Do not wander off by yourself, or allow anyone to lure you away.”
I nodded also, thinking that the space around me was going to be awfully crowded, especially as a couple of the guards, at His Grace’s gesture, attached themselves to us. The trumpets blew again, signaling the arrival of anomer Council member, and the Fyrst moved towards the door.
“I will send for you again when I have time,” he said, unclear on which “you” he was speaking to, but I had a nasty suspicion that he meant me.
Chapter Sixty-three
Uncle Havram went back to his ship, “to conduct an inquiry as to how the archdoyen managed to get past his vigilant guards.” He looked at me, his face drawn with concern. “But I’ll be back, lad.” As he turned to go, he tried to smile at Captain Suiden. “Hmmph! Should’ve let you toss His bloody Reverence over the side—or at least hang him from the yardarm a little.”
He didn’t wait for the captain’s response, which was just as well as Suiden didn’t give one. The captain did rouse himself to follow Laurel’s suggestion that we quit the Fyrst’s chambers. As we left, I looked around the room, thinking that a battlefield had fewer wounded.
Laurel, Wyln and I did not bother to return to the garden, as the wind had risen to a continuous wail, and instead went with Suiden, Javes, and Allwyn to our chambers. Upon entering, I’d expected to see Chancellor Berle there, but besides the embassy staff, only Lord Esclaur was present. He sat before the fire with a goblet of wine and a book borrowed from the castle’s library.
“Where is the chancellor?” Javes asked.
“Berle discovered the steam bath.” Putting the book down, Esclaur stood and stretched. “She said rocks are heated and water poured over them to make steam while you sit in it. Supposed to be very relaxing, but it sounds much too much like summer in Iversly, indeed it does.”
I smiled, sort of. “I don’t know how relaxing the chancellor will find it as it’s communal.” I saw the question on Esclaur’s face. “Males and females, lords and servants all share the same bath.”
“My word,” Lord Esclaur whispered, awe and glee fighting for supremacy on his face. He then took in the haunts pouring into the room after us and he sobered. “They took off a little while ago as if someone had yelled ‘fire.’ ” He looked back at me. “Is everything all right, Rabbit?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, of course, but nothing came out. I blinked, took a deep breath and tried again. “No.”
Esclaur frowned as he stared at me and it deepened as he looked around at the rest. “What has happened?”
“A reckoning, Lord Esclaur,” Doyen Allwyn said. He also tried to smile but didn’t quite make it. “I’m going to pray and meditate. Blessings.” The doyen went into his chamber.
“Chancellor Berle did not tell His Grace who was behind the smuggling, Sro Esclaur, or why,” Suiden said, his voice tired. He ran a hand over his face. “So we did.” He went over to the wine decanter and poured a goblet.
“What?”
“Makes you wonder exactly what Berle did tell the Fyrst, eh?” Javes said. Esclaur shot a glance at Wyln standing quiet next to me watching all of us, and Javes gave a short laugh. “Oh, they’ve figured us out so completely that we’ve no secrets from them.” He joined Suiden at the wine decanter. “On top of that, Obruesk escaped.”
“What?”
“It doesn’t make sense, sirs,” I said. “There’s absolutely nothing or no one for him here.”
Javes shrugged. “Perhaps he heard about the steam baths and decided to mount a holy campaign against them.”
“But—”
“But,” Laurel said over me, “mysteries and revelations aside”—he started herding me towards my chamber door, Wyln falling in with us—”there is much we still need to cover.”
“Why?” Suiden asked.
We all turned and looked at the captain as he set his empty goblet down on the table. Javes started to refill it, but Suiden laid his hand over the top of it as he stared at us.
“Honored captain?” Laurel asked.
“Why?” Suiden repeated, distant curiosity on his face. “Do you really think you can affect the High Council’s decision?”
“Do you know something, Suiden?” Javes asked, setting his own glass down as he also looked at us.
Suiden shrugged. “Think on it, Javes. The Fyrst dissolved Rabbit’s indentures because he was disposed to do so, not because of any clever arguments, triple oaths, or jewels from dragon hoards.”
“But the dead bird—” Esclaur began.
“That was just a convenience, Sro Esclaur. His Grace didn’t even bother to verify whether you were telling the truth—which he could’ve very easily either through Laurel or the Witness Circle—even though you’d volunteered.” Suiden looked back at Wyln and Laurel. “He was much more interested in King Jusson being an elf wizard—”
“Oh, no,” Wyln said, smiling. “Not a wizard. Or an enchanter. Yet. Say talent-born.”
“—and that Rabbit was both his cousin and sworn to him. I think it was then that the Fyrst decided to keep Rabbit, if not for himself, at least out of the—”
“Magus,” Laurel said, shooting a glance at Wyln.
“—Magus’ hands.” Suiden shrugged again. “Up until that point, His Grace was more than willing to give Rabbit back to his master—and didn’t give a pox-rotted damn what anyone else thought or wanted.”
“Yet knowing this, honored prince, you were eager to negotiate Cyhn for your, ah, charge,” Wyln pointed out.
“Protection is protection, Sro Wyln. Even so, I was assured by the Fyrst’s refusal to jettison Laurel and appoint you in his stead,” Suiden pointed out in return. “Why is that, I wonder?”
“Again, I’m amazed, honored prince, in your shrugging off the Faena’s not revealing who sent him,” Wyln said, ignoring both Suiden’s question and Laurel, who turned and stared at him.
“As I said before, I trust Rabbit’s instincts. He turns his back on Laurel. He does not turn his back on you.”
In the silence I could hear the wind howl, and a gust rattled the windows. Javes jumped and then looked around, frowning as he took in the embassy staff watching us with wide eyes. “I think that perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere less public, what?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed for the sleeping chamber he shared with Suiden.
The room was as decadent in rich wood as was the one I shared with Groskin and Jeff. Groskin followed us carrying the wine decanter and goblets. He placed them on the table as we sat down, and turned to leave.
“Stay, Lieutenant,” Suiden said, indicating the doorway, and Groskin stationed himself on one side, the leopard haunt moving to the other.
“Have you ever been told, Your Highness, the history of the People?” Wyln asked as he poured wine into a goblet.
“I know that Iversterre was once Borderland and that there are those who want it back,” Suiden said.
“’Want it back’?” Wyln set the decanter down with a snap as he looked at Suiden, the fire in the fireplace echoed in his eyes. “It was my home, Your Highness, not something I lost out of my pocket. What is now Iversly was Morendyll, the jewel of the sea, and Loran the Fyrst ruled there as High Elf King. There are mosaics Molyu, my sister and his wife, placed into the walls of the palace with her own hands. Gardens, walks and arbors that she and my other sister designed and planted. My own wife was born and grew to adulthood there, as lovely as a sunlit rose, and there I married her.” The flames in his eyes danced over the rim of his goblet as he took a sip of wine. “Ask me where my wife is now, honored prince. Ask me about my children.”
No one said anything.
The Enchanter lowered his cup and gave his gentle smile. “I understand that the Royal Garrison stables sit on top of the pit where their bodies were thrown, with the other muck and trash.”
Again, no one spoke.
“You say that the human does not trust me,” Wyln said. “That he will not turn his back on me, with his sixty-four lines to the House of Iver. Iver who drove me from my home, who killed my family, whose vicars proclaimed their murder a purging of the land given to them by their God.” The Enchanter shrugged. “Well, perhaps Two Trees’son is wise to be careful.” The wind gusted hard, once more rattling windows. Remembering what Jusson had told me he’d seen when I touched him, I traced my reflection in the polished wood with my finger, desperately hoping that I did not look like my distant ancestor.
“Do not worry, Two Trees’son. You don’t,” Wyln said, his voice light as he took another sip of wine.
“Have we been fools to come, Lord Enchanter?” Javes asked after a moment.
“The honored Faena doesn’t think so, do you, Laurel?” Wyln asked, turning to the cat.
“You can lower the bucket all you want, Wyln, but that well is dry,” Laurel rumbled. “I refuse to quarrel with you.” He looked at Javes. “I’ve been accused of playing fast and loose with my promises, honored captain, but I’ve made just one covenant and one oath, and so far I’ve kept both.”
“When this High Council meets,” Esclaur said, frowning at Laurel, “you may very well find your vows null and void.”
“I have never promised peace,” Laurel said. “Not to any of you, not to your king. However, I have sworn to keep Rabbit from the Magus, and so I will.”
“And I have sworn to his fosterage,” Wyln said as he prepared to rise, “no matter Two Trees’son’s antecedents.”
“Why?” Suiden asked, returning to his earlier question.
Wyln settled back into his chair, exasperation crossing his face. “Why what?”
“If Rabbit’s forefather killed your family and destroyed your home, if humans caused you such anguish, if you hate us so much, why have you taken Rabbit as Cyhn?”
Wyln sighed. “You are worse than a young one with your plague of ‘why’s.”
Suiden said nothing as he stared back and Wyln looked down into his wine goblet, a line between his brows. The Enchanter then shrugged, and finishing his wine, he lowered his goblet. But instead of looking at the captain, he turned his head to me, his eyes intense.
“There is a theory that human talent arises out of some strange alchemy of elf and human. That those mage-born have a touch of elfin blood—and the stronger the talent, the stronger the blood.”
I found myself staring back at the Enchanter.
“Are you saying that Rabbit is part elf?” Suiden asked, he and Laurel the only ones whose eyes weren’t stretched wide open.
“His Grace alluded to it at dinner your first night here, as you negotiated for Cyhn, Your Highness.” Wyln leaned forward and, reaching across the table, took my chin in his hand with a surprisingly gentle touch. I was startled into meeting his eyes but the Enchanter was more interested in examining my features than enthralling me. “Sixty-four degrees to an elfin king, a king to whom His Grace may be related. To whom I may be related—”
Wyln broke off as we became aware of a disturbance outside the common room, moving towards us. He dropped his hand and we all shifted to face the doorway ju
st as the curtain parted and Harbormaster Lin stepped into the room. Her wings, which had been pressed together as she moved through the doorway, spread out behind her. Eyeing the butterflies resting in her hair and on her shoulders, I realized that Lord Commander Thadro’s question of who’d want to be a butterfly had just been answered: faeries.
Two butterflies took off and headed my direction as Wyln sighed again. “This is becoming a habit, Harbormaster. Why aren’t you out looking for the escaped vicar?”
“Because we found Commander Pellan first, honored Enchanter,” Lin said. “Or rather, he and his City Watch have found my wardens and your guards. I just managed to escape.”
“What?” Wyln asked, frowning.
“A quorum of the High Council is assembled, and they’ve ordered His Grace the Fyrst held—”
Wyln stood up, knocking his chair over.
“—to answer charges of sheltering one human accused of the rape and murder of a fae—”
Groskin gasped and jerked as if he’d been hit.
“—of taking as Cyhn another human accused of practicing dark arts—”
“What?” I whispered as the wind rose to a shriek, banging on the windows.
“—of offering Hospitality to those who are guilty of running and slavery—”
“Why should we be left out?” Javes murmured.
“—all the while being aided and abetted by Laurel of the Black Hills clan, who not only has failed in his duty to the Council, but has turned reprobate, violating his Faena oaths.” The harbormaster turned her head to watch as the butterflies landed on my shoulder, their weight connecting me to the earth. She then raised her violet eyes to mine. “The Council has sent Commander Pellan for all of you. He should be here any moment.”
Chapter Sixty-four
“Commander Pellan is coming to take us into custody?” Captain Suiden asked, as we quickly moved from the sleeping chamber to the outer room. Wyln looked at the faerie with flame-filled eyes.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Lin said, watching the haunts surround me. “He was the one who delivered the Fyrst to the Council. As Laurel Faena has discovered, trust is a potent weapon.” She didn’t wait for a response, but nodded at the butterflies resting on my shoulder. “Two of my sisters, son of Lark and Two Trees. They followed the Magus’ messenger bird and so found you in the Royal City.”
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