“It begins with my dear daughter and her recent betrothal," said Lord Hugo, gesturing toward Lilliana.
Lilliana smiled at her father, somehow avoiding Sal’s gaze all the while.
"You see, a gift was in order for the occasion, and I had my mind set on a certain dress. Fool that I am," Lord Hugo said with a chuckle, as Lady Camilla Talwater nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement. “I listened to the advice of one of my hired men and decided to purchase jewelry to match the silks.”
"Ah, but that is where you erred, my friend. Every true lord knows to take the advice of one's lesser servants is the fool's errand," said Lord Baldwyn Prescot, chuckling. Already red in the cheeks from drink, the fleshy lord held up his cup for more wine before continuing on. "It is not much different from listening to the advice of one's wife on political matters."
Lord Hugo chuckled. "You've the right of it, I dare say. I should never have listened to that blasted man—sacked him though—did it the moment we'd returned to the estate gates. Should think I won't have the same problem in the future."
Sal’s heart sank.
“Daddy, you didn’t,” Lilliana said.
"I did, indeed. He'd had it coming for quite some time with that gambling business, but this was the last straw. Oh, don’t look at me so, he was given a writ of recommendation. I’m not a cruel man, you ought know this, but a lesson needed to be learned.”
Lord Admiral Talwater had eyes like the sea under a storm-wracked sky. His nose scrunched as though he smelled something foul, clean-shaven jaw set in a grim clench. "What lesson is to be learned from a writ of consent?" asked the admiral. "Had the man been my servant, he would have been severed from the body of my employment like a limb gone to rot. There would be no writ of recommendation, in fact, just the opposite."
The Admiral was not like the other two lords at the table. He was all hard angles and sharp edges, where the other two were soft and round. While Lord Hugo dressed like a man with too little taste and too much money, Lord Baldwyn Prescot dressed in all bright colors as though he was an over-ripened fruit. Lord Fabian Talwater dressed in a way that was both fashionable and restrained, nothing ostentatious, minimal, and still a tasteful display of wealth.
“You find the only way to teach a man a lesson is to take his livelihood?” Lilliana asked, addressing Lord Fabian with a challenging look and raised brows.
Another uncomfortable silence fell over the group.
Lord Fabian Talwater cocked an eyebrow. "Even if one is only in a betrothal, I should think a man might have better control of his woman. Not that she has ever been well behaved, even in her father's charge."
Lord Hugo chuckled, a placating smile pasted on. "I dare say Lilliana has always been a free-spirited one. Our young master Horvat is in for more than he bargained for, I am certain."
Marco Horvat smiled awkwardly at his soon to be father-in-law.
“There’s a good deal to be said for a strong woman,” said Lady Edith Prescot.
Lord Baldwyn Prescot’s face was scarlet, on the verge of shifting to purple, but he said nothing, downing a cup of wine instead.
Lady Camilla Talwater huffed, her long nose stuck high in the air.
“Now, you see, we found ourselves in the Agora, at Borchelli’s, you know the place? A reputable establishment,” said Lord Hugo starting right back into the retelling as though he’d never been interrupted. “Only Borchelli wasn't around. There was this big bloke behind the counter, a real freak of a man, rude, as well. I nearly gave the man a piece of my mind and left. Still, he brought out such fine jewelry, reasonable prices for his claims."
Lady Edith Prescot seemed to be the only one truly listening to the tale. Her lord husband seemed too intent on his food to hear the words over his chewing. The young Lady Gabriella was paying attention to just about anything other than Lord Hugo and the looks he continually cast in her direction.
Lord Fabian and Lady Camilla Talwater had their contemptuous gazes fixed on their fat host, but it was clear by the looks they wore that they had else on their minds.
Lilliana seemed to be pretending to listen to her father’s tale, throwing sultry smiles to Marco Horvat at each appropriate interval. All the while, managing never to catch Sal’s gaze.
Marco, for his part, had eyes only for Lilliana.
“That’s when this fine young man stepped in,” said Lord Hugo, as he grabbed Sal by the shoulder. “Stepped in and told that big bloke brave as you will that he could as well bugger off if he didn't like it. I'll be a duck's dandy if that freak of a Norsic didn't back right off, took the price, and wished us a good day he did!"
Lord Hugo slapped the table and laughed.
"You don't say?" said Lady Edith Prescot leaning in toward the table, arms squeezing her large bosom together in a way that amplified the cleavage escaping her neckline, her eyes fixing Sal with a look that was decidedly alluring.
"That's not the least of the boy's deeds either, I tell you. I purchased the jewelry and made for my town coach, and on the way, was robbed by a common footpad just outside the door. The man must have been lying in wait."
“Light’s Name, where were your guards?”
"Why the bloody fools were looking at a bridal, seems they fancy themselves groomsmen as well as spearmen."
“I should think you sacked the laggards,” said Lord Baldwyn Prescot.
“Well, it was the driver’s fault when it comes to it. The man asked for their help, told them we weren’t going anywhere unless they’d helped him. For any reason, I was robbed, and young Ewan here chased the thief down himself. Retrieved everything the thief had stolen and has vowed to have the torn dress mended himself.”
"A man of rare courage," said Lady Edith Prescot. "A true hero, indeed."
“Hardly a hero to do what anyone calls himself a man ought to do,” said Admiral Talwater.
"Good Admiral, had you seen the size of this thief I do not doubt you could be anything but awed that this young man should run him down and take my things back from him. By the Light, the man had to be two heads taller than young master Ewan, and a good five stone heavier.”
"Five stone?" Lord Baldwyn Prescot asked, seeming genuinely interested for the first time. "This boy took back your goods from a man five stone his bigger? The man must have been drunk, or five stone larger in the belly, ha!" Lord Baldwyn put his hands on his ample belly, laughing.
Lord Hugo laughed along. “I assure you the man was fleet of foot, strong as an ox, as well. He’d ripped the dress and jewelry from my hands as though I were a child. I tell you, what this young man managed was nothing less than heroic.”
Sal smiled, and though he felt a pang of guilt, things were working precisely as planned. Lilliana would know it was all a sham—at least— that half of it was a sham. Sal might be able to sell his act of heroism as an honest deed. He could claim he'd told the lie about his identity simply to give himself some authority with the shop keeper who'd been bullying her father. He could claim he'd only gotten himself too far into the situation, to tell the truth now. With the Lady's luck, it could all work out for the better in the end.
Still, no one apart from Lady Edith Prescot and Lord Hugo seemed truly impressed, and after a moment, everyone fell back into conversations among smaller groups.
“Tell me, Lord Ewan,” said Lady Edith Prescot, addressing Sal from the other side of her daughter as though there were no one between them, “where in Azure Lake does your family reside?”
Lady Gabriella picked at her hot roll, sighing her malcontent.
“Please, My Lady, merely Salvatori will suffice,” Sal said.
Lady Edith blushed, her plump cheeks going a deep scarlet.
Her daughter, Gabriella, rolled her eyes.
“Have you ever been to Azure Lake, My Lady?” Sal asked.
Lady Edith Prescot shook her head, and Sal inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He'd never been to Azure Lake himself. He had merely banked on the hope that the rest of them were more
ignorant of the place than he was.
“I’ve mentioned going to my lord husband a time or two, but we’ve yet to visit. Though, I’m told it is truly beautiful.”
“Beautiful hardly describes it, My Lady. Magical,” Sal said, hoping any moment Lilliana would spare a glance in his direction. “Magical would come close. My family home resides upon the north slope of the crystal crag. Every morning when the sun hits the crag, the mountain lights up like this city on Fitzen eve.”
“And the water, is it true what they say?”
“It sparkles like a sapphire in the spring. You will never find clearer water. Not even surrounding the islands of Krathus.”
“Do you hear that, Baldwyn? We simply must visit my kin on the Faldori Peaks. We could pass right through Azure Lake. What do you say? My cousin has been asking for ages.”
Lord Baldwyn Prescot turned from his conversation with Lord Fabian Talwater just long enough to mutter, “Yes, yes, my dear, whatever you like,” before he turned back to face Lord Fabian and Lady Camilla Talwater.
Lady Edith didn’t seem to mind. She smiled broadly at Sal and shrugged her round shoulders.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of the Lady Cassandra of Kell Hill?” Lady Edith Prescot asked.
“I know the name,” Sal lied. “Though, I dare say I’ve not had the pleasure to make her acquaintance.”
"Oh, but she would simply adore you. When you return to Azure Lake, perhaps you should make a trip out to the Faldori Peaks.”
“I’ve never been My Lady, though I hear the views are simply breathtaking.
Lord Hugo waved the footman over, calling for another hot roll and mince cake.
I find the view of the peaks quite breathtaking, Bastian said, his eyes never leaving young Lady Gabriella.
Lady Edith Prescot cleared her throat, sitting back in her chair, and fixing Lord Hugo with sharp eyes. Lady Edith may have been soft of flesh, but she certainly didn’t seem someone to be underestimated.
The footmen cleared off the table, taking used dishes, and placing a palate cleanser before the guests.
The pair of footmen who'd previously brought in the basins reentered, bearing two more platters. Only, these platers came uncovered, four bowls upon one, five upon the other. Each guest served before the master of the house, forced to smell the tantalizingly rich scents of the cream-white soup until everyone had been served.
“A crab and clam chowder,” Lord Hugo announced. “A specialty of my new chef.”
Sal's first bite was mouthwatering. A mouthful of buttery potato, sweet yellow corn, rich cream broth, and chewy clam. By the second bite, he found himself wishing he'd been given a bigger bowl, or perhaps a smaller spoon so that he would be forced to savor the dish. By the third bite, Sal found himself wishing he would never find the bottom of the bowl.
The crab and clam chowder was perhaps the best remedy readily available to tamper his slowly boiling anger over the sight of Lilliana and Marco—soup so delicious it could only be explained by magic. A year ago, the thought would have been no more than that, a silly thought. But these days, Sal knew something of magic, a facet of reality that had until recently been hidden to him.
He’d known of Talents, but until he’d stolen the locket, Sal had never really believed in magic. Not elder magic, but true magic, powers given to men by the gods themselves. Whatever the secret ingredient was in the crab and clam chowder, Sal was willing to bet it was less than natural—or perhaps more than natural—supernatural.
As Sal looked up from his soup, allowing his mouth a moment of respite, his lungs a quick breath, his stomach a light settling, he noticed the conversation all about the table had slowed to a polite trickle. Most everyone was focused on the soup, as though it had lulled them all into a restful state of bliss.
As bowls began to empty, the conversation again began to swell. Lord Baldwyn Prescot spoke to Lord and Lady Camilla Talwater with a jocular tone and animated hand gestures. Lord Hugo enthralled Lady Edith Prescot with another heroic tale. Though, Sal suspected, Lord Hugo spoke more for the sake of Gabriella’s hearing than that of her lady mother’s.
On the other side of the table, Marco spoke quietly to Lilliana, who stared into his eyes as though they were a place for refuge.
Suddenly, Marco glanced over at Sal, frowned, and turned back to Lilliana.
Sal's stomach turned, his heart stopped, and his breath caught in his throat. What had that look been about? Had Lilliana told Marco who Sal really was? But no, Marco would have said something, wouldn't he? Unless she'd told him to wait.
What if she were only biding her time? Had Lilliana held her tongue thus far simply to unmask him at the most opportune moment?
The thought made him sick to his stomach. The soup quickly lost its savor, and Sal found himself somehow unable to finish the bowl.
He laid down his spoon, half-heartedly pretending to listen to Lord Hugo's tale, all the while sneaking glances at Lilliana and Marco, wondering what they were talking about, and if by chance they were talking about him.
By the third course, a salad of sliced tomato, topped with basil, mozzarella, olive oil, and a touch of ground black pepper, the conversation slowly shifted from small talk to issues of state. While fractionally more interesting, it was considerably more tedious.
"I say, if we don't increase levies on foreign goods shipped outside the traditional tradelines, I don't see how we can hope to maintain control within the Trade Guild," Lord Baldwyn Prescot said.
“Higher levies?” said Lord Fabian Talwater. “Anyone operating outside Trade Guild regulations deserves the sharp side of the headsman’s axe.”
“And pass on the krom?” said Lord Hugo. “Light’s Name, man, think of all that could be done with the levies alone. The High Council would have the funds to renovate Town Square, to repair city roads, to build another bridge. Just think of the possibilities.”
“Let the thieves keep their blood coin,” said the Lord Admiral. “The gold of criminals aught not stain the ducal coffers. Give them steel, I say. Pirates, that's what they are. Well, I know how to deal with pirates, My Lords, sink their ships, and lay their bodies to rest at the bottom of the sea. Higher levies, bah!”
“I can never quite follow all the intricacies of government,” said Lady Edith Prescot, a big smile on her round face. “I dare say, even when you speak openly, one cannot hope to understand."
Sal nodded politely, but in truth—he was hardly listening—his focus set on the conversation between Lilliana and Marco.
Might be he was going about all of this the wrong way. Might be he should just kill the prat and rid himself of the competition altogether. Truth be told, Sal could hardly recall why he’d not taken that course of action in the first place. How easy it would be to leap across the table and stab his pigsticker right into Marco Horvat’s black beating heart.
"Surely, you cannot mean that," said Lord Hugo. "The Trade Guild is under enough strain keeping control of what they already have."
“And what of it?” said Lord Baldwyn Prescot. “What other choice do we have? Would you disband the Guilds?”
“Disband the Guilds?” said Lord Hugo. "Why, of course, I would."
That caught Sal by surprise. And suddenly, he found himself interested in the conversation. Disband the Guilds? The Trade Guilds had been around since before even the temples had been torn down, and Knöldrus Cathedral had been erected—before the First Empire had left the shores of Pargeche—since the very days of the city’s founding.
“Madness,” said Lord Admiral Talwater. “The Council would never support it, and rightfully so. Without the Guilds, there would be anarchy in the streets."
Lord Baldwyn Prescot twisted his long wispy chin beard around a finger.
“Anarchy?” said Lord Hugo. “I should think not. Regulated freedom of trade, My Lord, this is the way of the future.”
Lady Camilla Talwater huffed. "Should such talk not wait until after the palate-cleansing?"
“
I agree,” said young Lady Gabriell. “I find this talk a bore.”
“This is to be expected,” said Lord Baldwyn Prescot, an arrogant smirk fixed on his fleshy face. “This is talk of state, the utterances of men who rule. Such topics are not for the delicate ears of women.”
Lilliana sat upright, like a fox that had caught the scent of a rat.
Seeing her reaction, Sal pounced.
“Respectfully, My Lord, I must disagree," Sal said, catching Lilliana's eyes for the first time since he'd been seated. "I feel these issues affect women just as much as they affect men. And if you mean they are not capable of understanding the issue, then again, I must disagree. I feel many women would be more than capable of serving in government.”
Lord Baldwyn Prescot finally took on a full shade of purple as he’d been threatening to do all night. The veins in his neck and temples throbbing.
“Men were made to rule,” said Lord Fabian Talwater. “The histories and the priests agree on this. God made man to rule and women to serve.”
Sal opened his mouth to speak when Marco beat him to it.
“Still, should not the woman’s word be considered, before the man makes his decision?” Marco asked.
“It is from the head that the family will follow. For the man is lord and head of his house, and property,” said Lord Admiral Fabian Talwater. “Even the holy book supports this. To contradict these words is to blaspheme against the Lord that is Light himself.”
Lilliana’s eyes narrowed to thin slits.
“My Lord,” Sal said, finally taking his chance to stand out. “Are you saying the holy book claims women are no more than property? Could you not read other passages of that same book which would suggest just the opposite? Or at the very least that men and women should be treated as equals in the gods’ eyes?”
Lilliana smiled, and for the first time that night, Sal felt something had gone in his favor.
“One should treat all as God would have of him.” Said Lord Hugo. “God is in the one as he is in all. To treat any as less than a child of God is to strike against the Lord that is Light. Is that not also in the holy book, Lord Fabian? How then can we consider our women chattel and not blaspheme against the Light?”
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