Fool's Quest - Страница 150

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As I had surmised, we were walked to the base of the map-tower and then up those wide steps. The central stairs had been scaled for a dragon’s stride, as were the tall doors at the top. I dreaded such a climb, but they took us to the human-scaled steps to one side. There, at least, folk were coming and going, some in robes as gaudy as the Fool’s tent and the general’s garb, and some in more prosaic leather and wool. A carpenter passed us, followed by his journeyman and three apprentices, all laden with their tools. I took in the grand art that graced the walls and then General Rapskal and his guards were escorting us into a vast and echoing space.

The immense entry hall was cleaner than I recalled it and much emptier. It was warmer as well, and seemed possessed of a sourceless light. The last time I had visited here, the floor had been littered with the fibers and dust of collapsed wooden furniture. The ancient debris had been cleared away, and a score of new desks and tables strove to occupy a space designed for hundreds. Scribes of various mien and garb occupied them, some perhaps diligently adding numbers, others facing a queue of people waiting with various degrees of impatience. I dreaded that we would be assigned to such a queue, but instead we were marched through that hall, drawing all manner of stares, and ushered through a wooden door and into a smaller chamber.

It was still too large a place for our company, but it offered warmth, and as soon as we halted Lant and Per gratefully set down their burdens. At a gesture from their leader, the troops ranged themselves round the wall. General Rapskal came to stand before me. “I will be immediately calling on the king and queen to see if they are willing to give you an audience. I will not deceive you. I am unhappy with your account of yourself and I will advise them to regard you with the just suspicion that intruders to our city deserve. Wait here.”

He turned and I let him go three steps before I halted him with a genial, “And will we be offered wash-water and a place to tidy ourselves before we appear before them? We’ve no wish to insult them with a rough appearance.”

He turned back. A frown creased his brow. He made a swift gesture, and one of his men stepped forward to take hasty counsel with him. It did not take long. “Captain Perling will see to your comfort and supervision while I am gone. Whatever you need, you may ask of him.” And with no more farewell than that, he turned and marched out of the room. The close-fitting footwear he wore made little more than a whisper against the stone. I turned a kindly look on the captain and smiled.

“When the Elderling Selden sojourned with us many years ago, he spoke glowingly of the wonders of your city. I see now that he did not exaggerate. Could we trouble you, good Captain, for warm water and perhaps food and wine to restore ourselves? As you can imagine, our travels since the bear attack have been a journey of privation.”

I was following an axiom of Chade’s. Always behave as if you are the person you wish to be perceived as. I was an emissary from the Six Duchies, a prince of the blood, and I had every right to be welcomed as such. Nonetheless, I had initially feared we would be thrown into a cell or dungeon until the king and queen could judge us. At the very least, I’d expected to be treated harshly, but the captain did not appear to share his general’s trepidation about us. He dispatched a handful of his men for food and drink and wash-water, invited us to be seated, and had his men bring a table and set it before us. The benches he offered us appeared hard and cold, but when we were seated, they warmed and became as soft as any cushioned chair.

That was enough to impress us, but it did not stop there. A vessel decorated with a pattern of leaves and dancers was set on the table before us. Cold water was poured into it, but within moments it steamed gently. We were grateful to warm our chilled faces and hands with it, and to dry them on the soft towels set out for us. The food was less impressive. It was good meat, root vegetables, a cold fowl, and bread, but plainly cooked and served. We were still glad to fill our bellies, and if the wine they offered us was a rather sour vintage, it was still welcome.

Our guards gave us no privacy but we ignored them as we attempted to straighten our garments and smooth our hair. When we had eaten and made ourselves as presentable as we could, we sat on the comfortable benches and waited. And waited. Perseverance voiced the question that filled all our minds. “Do you suppose they are safe?”

I deliberately misunderstood him. “The king and queen of the Elderlings? I am sure they will do their best to see us soon, and extend to us the same welcome we have offered their emissaries to Buckkeep.” I put a kindly smile on my face. “You need not fear them, boy, no matter how strange their guise may seem to you. The Six Duchies has long had cordial relations with all the Traders.” Lant was nodding and the boy seemed to take my meaning. We sat and we waited. Endlessly. I comforted myself that I heard no alarm raised as the slow hours passed. I hoped that the Fool and Spark were using the time well.

I had begun to long to take a nap when finally the door opened again. General Rapskal appeared with a tall Rain Wilder at his side. His hair was tousled from wind and while he was clearly an Elderling, he was not as finely made as General Rapskal. He was older, I decided, though the scaling on his brow did not make it easy to guess his age. He entered the room, looked at me, and then turned to his general. “Swifter would have been better, Rapskal. Later, I will wish to speak to you.”

I rose as he crossed to me and was startled when he extended his hand to me. I offered mine and he took my hand in a Trader’s greeting rather than the warrior’s wrist-clasp I had half-expected.

“You are Prince FitzChivalry Farseer, of the Six Duchies?” he confirmed with me. I nodded gravely. He still had not released my hand. “I beg pardon for the rough welcome you have received. I am Reyn Khuprus.”

I tried not to start. I might call myself a prince, but I had not expected their king to clasp hands with me as an equal. I found my tongue. “I am honored, King Reyn. This is Lord Lant Fallstar, and my serving man, Perseverance of Withywoods.” Both were already on their feet, bowing.

The king finally released my hand and gestured to the door. “I regret my delay in greeting you. My lady, Malta, was called away to deal with unexpected visitors and left me to finish a complicated accounting with one of our ship’s captains. I had given orders I was not to be disturbed until the inventory was complete and somehow your arrival was not seen as an extraordinary event that demanded immediate attention. But, enough explanations for now. Please, accompany me to a more comfortable place. Rapskal, summon someone to prepare chambers for them in the Greeting Hall, and transport their belongings there. No, please, leave your things as they are. I promise they will be delivered safely to your rooms. Accompany me, please.”

The lack of formality was unnerving, and I suddenly and desperately hoped that our arrival would not upset any treaties or pacts that Dutiful and Elliania had been carefully negotiating. As I followed the king, I made a wild reach with my Skill, only to founder in the vast chorus of the city that surrounded me. No. Useless. I’d have to go very cautiously.

He took us back to the great entry hall and then, to our surprise, ushered us out into the early evening. The city was lit as I had never seen any city lit. When Per gasped at it, I knew it was no Skill-trick but actual light emanating from the buildings. They gleamed in dragon colors: gold and blue, scarlet and verdant green, yellow as daisy hearts. Some were patterned with vines of light or stylized waves and swirls while others simply glowed. We needed no torches to make our way down the steps to the street. There I fought my Skill clear of the thronging ghost-Elderlings to see a far sparser population moving in the streets. King Reyn walked briskly, responding with waves or nods to those who greeted him. We attracted stares but he did not permit anyone to detain us or ask questions. At the end of the street, we reached a structure that was humbler than the map-tower but taller and grander by far than Withywoods Manor.

“Our Greeting Hall,” he announced it with a gesture. “We find it a pleasant place to welcome guests. It’s scaled for humans. Smaller doors, lower ceilings. Sometimes I feel rather insignificant in some of the other structures here.” He tipped me a small smile. “A hazard of living alongside dragons, as you may imagine. Please, come with me. There are many comfortable rooms here. And it is what we call a quiet place, meaning that in the upper chambers the voices of Kelsingra do not whisper so loudly.”

He maintained his brisk pace up the steps and weary as I was, I strove to keep up with him. The entrance hall was furnished in what I believed was a Bingtown style. There were clusters of chairs around small elegant tables. The room still looked oddly empty to me until I realized that it was missing a grand hearth with a fire. Despite the high ceilings and wide windows of thick yellow glass, it was still warm inside; I judged this further evidence of Elderling magic at work. We did not pause in this room, but entered a flagged hall and walked along it, our boots ringing while the softly shod feet of the king whispered along. We passed half a dozen ornately carved doors before he opened one and gestured us in.

In the center of the room was a table with an elegant cloth and fine dishes set out upon it. Chairs with carved wooden backs and green cushions awaited us. The art on the walls was foreign to my eyes, but pleasant. Images were suggested—the deep twining greens of a forest or the wide rippled face of a river—but nothing was precisely depicted. A woman had been straightening the silverware on the table, but she turned to greet us as we entered.

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