Taking his cue from Wendee, Derian sniffed a bunch of dried flowers as if trying to decide whether they were worth purchasing.
Wendee grinned at him.
"Those are marigolds," she said, "used for making a nice golden-yellow dye. I doubt you'd like if we cooked with them. Too strong a flavor."
Derian almost forgot the crowd, which was, in fact, beginning to forget themùor if not to forget, to ignore.
"And these?" he asked, pointing to some purple flowers.
"Asters," Wendee said, "though you'll never guess what color you get from them."
"Not purple?" Derian asked. "Or blue?"
"Shades of green, gold, or brown," Wendee said, putting the asters back, "depending on what you mix them with."
"Mix," Derian said, glad to play student to Wendee's impromptu lesson if it would give the crowd a chance to decide not to bother them. "With what?"
"Oddly enough," Wendee said, pointing to some medium-sized wooden boxes set near to where the stall tender could lay hand on them, "often powdered metals. They help the dyes to set and affect the colors."
"Interesting," Derian replied, "but we won't be dying cloth, will we?"
"No," Wendee said, glancing surreptitiously around. "However, I don't think it's quite safe to venture in to the thick of the market yet. Cooking spices are always useful…
"For many reasons," she added rather mysteriously.
Derian was distinctly puzzled, right up until they had finished their purchases and Wendee slipped him a packet of the strong-scented spice she had first selected.
"Put it in a pocket where you can easily lay hands on it," she instructed. "If there's trouble, a pinch or two in the face will stop someone as well as a fist in the jaw."
Derian accepted Wendee's gift, giving the older woman an admiring glance.
"Cool head and hot eyes," he said, trying to make a proverb of it.
"Something like that," Wendee agreed. "Just be certain you loosen the tie so you can get to the powder if needed."
"Needed?" Derian asked. "Surely you're not staying out here!"
Wendee squared her jaw.
"We certainly are," she said. "We've already learned something about local feelings for Melina that we didn't know before. Let's see what else we can learn."
Chapter XXII
THE AMBASSADOR welcomed Elise and Edlin with a courtesy that could not completely hide that she was a very worried woman.
Ambassador Violet Redbriar was the younger sibling of the current Duchess Goshawk, an able woman in her own right who had transformed a formidable talent for languages into a diplomatic career. In her mid-sixties, with iron grey hair and skin like fine leather, Violet Redbriar had taken, Elise noted with some surprise, to wearing New Kelvinese cosmetics. She didn't wear them in any great quantities, true, but the blush on her lips and cheeks, the foundation covering the worst of the sun damage to her skin, were as startling on a woman of Violet Redbriar's birth as a tattoo would have been.
Perhaps this is what happens when you live among foreigners for too long, Elise thought. You begin to see the world through their eyes.
It was an uncomfortable thought, especially about a person Elise had been counting on forùif not help, at least understanding.
After the usual greetings and offering of refreshments, Ambassador Redbriar withdrew with them into a book-lined room that was clearly an office, not a parlor or drawing room.
Elise found this choice rather ominous and her sense of foreboding was not lightened by the ambassador's first words.
"Things have changed in New Kelvin," Violet Redbriar said, "and not at all for the good."
"I say," Edlin replied, leaning rather stiffly back in his chair as if his buttoned waistcoat was too tight, "that's what I've thought, what?"
Elise frowned him to silence, then turned her attention to the ambassador.
"Lord Kestrel may have noticed, Ambassador Redbriar, but I fear I have not. Of course," Elise gave a small, self-deprecating shrug, "I have not been much away from our house since we arrived."
"Has the mood in the street been so bad that you have feared to go out?" Ambassador Redbriar asked.
Elise was puzzled.
"Not at all," she explained. "Far from it, really. We've had numerous patients calling for Doc'sùthat is, Sir Jared Surcliffe'sùservices. Their mood has seemed fine, enthusiastic even."
Edlin tried to interject something, but Ambassador Redbriar spoke right through him.
"You haven't sensed any odd moods," she persisted. "Urgency, perhaps? Guardedness?"
Elise frowned.
"Anyone who seeks out a doctor seems rather urgent," she replied, made hesitant by the ambassador's own intentness, "and all but the patients we see regularly are a bit aloof. We are foreigners, after all, even if the locals do believe Doc has magic."
"I had heard something of Sir Jared's reputation," Ambassador Redbriar admitted. "Healing talent, is it?"
Elise nodded reassuringly. "That's all. He's a good doctor without it, but it does give him an edge."
"Well, I find it hopeful that your patients have returned," Ambassador Redbriar said. "They must have come fairly soon upon your return."
"Even before we were settled," Elise said. "We were a bit surprised by how soon they heard of our arrival, actually."
"I," the ambassador said, "am not. Anything from Hawk Haven is big news now, because, you see, of Consolor Melina."
"They like their new queen so much then?" Elise asked.
"Some may," the ambassador said rather evasively.
"But most don't!" Edlin blurted out. "I say! Elise may have been busy healing the sick and all, don't you know, but I've been out on the streetsùwent to the apothecary a few times, once to the market with our guide. I don't speak the lingo well, but I can read an expression with the best of them. Some of the folks don't like us, not half."
Elise stared at him.
"Edlin, why haven't you said anything before?"
The young lord shrugged, almost embarrassed.
"No one much to talk with, what? You've been busy, so's Doc. Firekeeper's off wherever Firekeeper goes. Citrine's hardly a confidant. Derian and Wendee, they've had things of their own to do."
Elise felt suddenly sorry for Edlin. They had rather left him out of things since their arrival in Dragon's Breath. After all, the young lord's main reason for being along had been a combination of security on the road and offering the excuse that House Kestrel was interested in starting up trade with New Kelvin. Edlin's good-naturedly playing at doorman or performing whatever odd jobs were needed had disguised what was evidently growing discontent and restlessness.
"Lord Kestrel is correct in his impressions," the ambassador said, giving Edlin a more respectful look than she had accorded him thus far. "Many of my contacts within the current government do not like Consolor Melina. They resent her as a usurper of a place that should have gone to one of their own. Recent shifts in policy from the Dragon Speaker have not made things any better."
"Shifts?" Elise asked.
"The Dragon Speaker has become markedly more aggressive in pursuing magical lore," Violet Redbriar said, "despite the 'disappointments' of last winter. This has put a real crimp on one groupùcall them the Progressives, though their enemies call them the Defeatistsùwho have been trying for years to get New Kelvin to base its economy on something more tangible than magic and antiquities."
"Surely that's not enough reason for Edlin to be scowled at in the streets," Elise protested. "After all, New Kelvin has always been devoted to old things almost to the exclusion of good sense."
"Good sense was beginning to get the upper hand," the ambassador said, "or at least what you and I would term good sense. Indeed, it is not telling tales out of turn to say that Hawk Haven rather hoped for a Progressive coup next election. This is unlikely now."
Violet Redbriar gave Elise a meaningful look and Elise answered with a slight smile.
"I believe we've spoken with one of these
Progressives. Least Prime Nstasius of the Sericulturalists visited us upon our arrival."
"He has spoken with me as well," Ambassador Redbriar said.
"Is Prime Nstasius your only source for these indications of unhappiness among the New Kelvinese?"
"No." Violet toyed with the fringe on her sleeve as if considering how much to say. "I have heard from other than him about Melina's politicking. It is widely agreed that she is in favor of granting trade concessions to Water-land in exchange for thingsùrumor is not consistent on what these areùthat will benefit her. This has not made either the merchants or the lesser members of the sodalities very happy."
Edlin nodded enthusiastically.
"I can see why not," he said. "They set up their trade, then some over-ruler messes with the balance, what? I think anything like that would make Grandmother furious, don't you know, and she likes King Tedric. Calls him Teddy when she forgets."
There was a slightly stunned pause at this last inconsequential bit of information, then Ambassador Redbriar cleared her throat and went on.
"Perhaps the least popular of the Dragon Speaker's recent decisions has been the appointment of a Dragon's Fire to replace Grateful Peace, the former Dragon's Eye."
Elise chewed on her lower lip, realized this was undignified, and sipped from her cup of rather tepid and overly sweet tea.
"Dragon's Fire," she said after sorting through her memory for the various New Kelvinese titles, "that's a war leader, right?"
"Absolutely," Ambassador Redbriar replied approvingly. "The problem with a war leader is that there must be something to leadùan army to be precise. You young people may not realize this, but New Kelvin has not had a standing army for many years. Local militia companies deal with bandits."
"I say!" Edlin commented. "They don't deal with them too well, either. From what we've seen, I mean. Been attacked both this trip and last. Last time was understandable, but this time we were staying at an inn along a major public road, don't you know. No excuse for such sloppiness."
Violet Redbriar looked rather more thoughtful than Elise thought Edlin's latest diversion merited, but she replied without directly addressing his point.
"This may be, but with the exception of the local militia, New Kelvin has no army. It has not had a standing army since the time of the First Healed Oneùthat is, in the time of the Plague. There isn't even a provision in the rather complex New Kelvinese legal code for an army to be raised."
"Impossible!" Elise said, thinking of her own family's contract with the throne of Hawk Haven to raise a certain number of soldiers in time of war.
"Not at all," the ambassador said. "In the past, when New Kelvin has been forced to fight, an army has been raised by the simple expedient of requesting volunteers. If this does not garner sufficient warm bodies, then a nonvolunteer army is formed."
"Nonvolunteer?" Elise queried, not believing her own ears. "Isn't that dangerous? For the commanders I mean."
"Sometimes," Violet Redbriar agreed, "but there are penalties for resisting serviceùand not all of them are applied just to the rebel. Families, sometimes extended groups, pay the price."
They all thought about this for a long moment. Elise made a mental note to ask Hasamemorri for more details.
"I say," Edlin said, irrepressible as always. "I can see why the locals are unhappy, but why take it out on us?"
"Because they think that Consolor Melina is responsible for the creation of the Dragon's Fire," Elise offered slowly. "Is that the case, Ambassador?"
Violet Redbriar nodded. "And they may not be incorrect. My sources say that Consolor Melina has considerable influence over Apherosùthat is the current Dragon Speakerùas well as over her husband, the Healed One."
"Do you think Consolor Melina is really so influential?" Elise asked. "And, if I may be forward, have you reported your thoughts to our king?"
Ambassador Redbriar frowned. Clearly she did think Elise was being rather forward, but she was too polite to say so.
"I have told the king something of this," she said, "but Consolor Melina is no longer his charge. He himself has declared her exiled."
"Easy enough to do," Elise said with a cynicism that she was surprised to find in herself, "when the woman is unlikely to return of her own accord and it is even more unlikely that she would be extraditedùgiven her intimacy with the local government."
"With the Healed One," Violet Redbriar said. "Toriovico, the Healed One, is not all the government. Indeed, he is hardly concerned with its routine business."
Elise let the comment with its undertone of schoolroom correction pass, though she didn't much care to be spoken to in such a manner, especially after King Tedric himself had consulted her on the matter of international policy not so long ago.
"I understand," Elise said. "You have given us much to think on. Certainly, we will take care with our ventures into the city."
"You have a guide?" the ambassador asked.
Was her question a touch too casual? Elise couldn't be certain.
"A crippled fellow we hired in Gateway," Elise replied airily. "He and his young son are staying with us. In a pinch we can borrow one or more of our landlady's maids. Hasamemorri is devoted to DocùSir Jaredùor rather to what his healing arts do for her abused knees, and will gladly aid us."
Elise was aware that her last sentence was less than eloquent, but talking about Grateful Peace was unsettling, and Sir Jared was hardly the distraction to still her soul. Violet Redbriar, however, seemed satisfied.
"Very good. I think it would be better for all concerned if we left our associations fairly general. This embassy has already attracted unwelcome attention from those who are certain Consolor Melina spies for her birth land. Let them think this a courtesy call and nothing else."
Elise was pleased. She had been dreading an invitation to remain for dinner, especially now when she had news she wanted to get back to the others.
They parted soon after. So absorbed was Elise in her thoughts and in the ramifications of what the ambassador had told them that she didn't even notice the sullen glares, like rapidly concealed ripples in a formerly still pond, that their passage generated in the crowd.
Beside her, Edlin did, and it might well have been his forester's watchfulnessùusually so out of place in the cityùthat kept them safe to the tidy door of Hasamemorri's house.
EWEN BROOKS lay on the soft earth, swallowing hate more bitter than the bile that surged from his unsettled gut. A long while seemed to pass before he could do more.
At first, he thought the pounding that made thinking or moving so difficult was all inside his throbbing head, but when he managed to open his aching eyes, he realized that the pounding had an external source as wellùrather, several external sources.
Back and forth, back and forth, in their steadiness more like ants than people, the settlers were moving between the cabins and a line of rough but serviceable wagons that stretched across what had once been a village square. Ewen wondered where the wagons had come from. Then, looking from side to sideùthe space behind his eyes flashing ruddy-colored lights as he moved his headùhe understood.
Lord Polr must have brought the wheels and axles with him, but the bodies of the wagons were being built from timber salvaged from the cabins. The outer structure of the cabins had been made from logs, but lofts and furniture had demanded planks. Garrik Carpenter had proven he deserved his place in the community by locating seasoned wood, then showing them how to split it into planks.
Ewen had been a miller's son, so he was accustomed to sawing wood, not splitting it. Garrik's transformation of downed treesùsome of which they had speculated might even have been felled by Prince Barden's settlers ten years earlierùinto handy boards had seemed like magic. It also had given them a level of luxury Ewen had thought they must do without until they had a mill of their own.
Now, through open doorsùindeed, through gaping door holes, for the doors themselves were goneùEwen watched as lofts were torn up, t
heir boards handed down to cheerful hands reaching from below.
The town square within the palisade of which Ewen had been so proud seemed emptier now. The tents that had been pitched in the intervals between the cabins, waiting their turn to be replaced by tidy log structures, had been dismantled. Even as he watched, a few of the remaining domestic fowl were carried by, their legs trussed, their necks craning at ridiculous angles as they sought to make sense of their predicament.
"We'll pay for any beast or fowl you don't wish to carry back," said a firm voice that Ewen placed in a moment as that of Lord Polr. "Remember that!"
Lord Polr's voice sounded different somehow, robbed of the tension that had echoed beneath its every word or statement, no matter how innocuous.
Ewen struggled to pull himself upright. He didn't have much luck, but his motion brought a shadowy figure that had a tendency to split into multiples hunkering down beside him.
"Easy," Lord Polr said. "You took a nasty wallop, then went down off the walkway. They tried to catch you, but…"
His shrug made his image fragment. Ewen squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, things seemed to have stabilized. Again he tried to struggle upright and he felt Polr's firm hands assisting him to sit and lean back against something solidùthe palisade, Ewen realized. They hadn't moved him far from where he fell. They'd made him a thick pallet on which to rest, brought him a pillow. When he glanced upùa thing that hurt more than he could have imaginedùhe saw that a bit of canvas had been strung over him as a roof.
How long had he been out?
"Water?" Lord Polr asked.
Ewen tried to nod, then decided that was a bad idea. His "yes" came out more as a grunt, but Lord Polr apparently took it as assent.
A canteen was held to his lips, the well water within it still cool. Ewen swallowed greedily, making some infantile noise in protest when the water was pulled away from him.
"Sorry, but the company doctor says we have to be careful, can't have you retching it all up again. See how that sits and we'll try more in a bit."
Ewen acceded. His stomach was turning from the few swallows and he didn't want to humiliate himself further by puking.
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