He’d simply said he had to go, and that he’d be close by for the Accords. Meralda wondered where he’d gone, and why. But something sad and wistful in his voice left her unwilling to question him further.
“I wish I could go with you,” Mug said. “I feel as if I should be there. Your big day and all.”
“I need you here, Mug. Keeping an eye on the Tower.”
Mug tossed his leaves. “True. Still. I’ll be glad when this is done, mistress. I miss the kitchen windowsill.”
Fromarch stuck his head in the door. “Well?” he asked. “Are you decent?”
“I might as well be wearing a tent,” said Meralda. “Do come in.”
Fromarch darted inside, accompanied by Shingvere.
Fromarch was clad in a simple, but poorly fitted, black robe. Scuffed black work boots peeked out from beneath, and the wrinkled collar of a white Phendelit dress shirt showed at the neck.
Shingvere, though, was dressed in a flowing red and black Eryan mage’s robe, complete with billowing sleeves and a blood-red sash. His hood was thrown back, his beard was trimmed and combed, and his eyes twinkled above his broad smile.
“Mage Meralda, you look wonderful,” he said. “Shame that robe doesn’t fit a bit better, you’d have half of Erya proposing marriage right there in the stands.”
“What the devil would she want with a lot of half-wit Eryans,” grumbled Fromarch.
Meralda raised her hands. “I’m glad to see you both. I haven’t had a chance to thank you for keeping the Vonats busy, these last few days.”
Both mages guffawed and exchanged grins. “Haven’t had that much fun in years,” said Fromarch.
“We put a basilisk in their swimming pool,” said Shingvere. “’Tis a crying shame that didn’t make the papers.”
“I do not want to know,” said Meralda. “At least not yet.”
“We’ll have a beer soon,” said Fromarch. He shot a look at Shingvere. “Think she knows yet?”
“Knows what?”
“She doesn’t know. He didn’t tell her. That rascal.”
Meralda frowned. “Who? Tell me what? What rascal?”
A trumpet blew. A knock sounded at the laboratory door. “They’re telling us we need to go,” said Kervis, through the door. “If you please, I mean, ma’am.”
Before Meralda could speak, Fromarch and Shingvere whirled and hurried out, chattering idly in tones that clearly conveyed their amusement with themselves.
Meralda glared at their backs and hurried to collect her things.
The trip to the park took nearly three hours.
Traffic was choked to a near standstill. Soldiers, some Eryan, some Phendelit, most Tirlish, lined every street and stood on every corner.
Every carriage, even Meralda’s, was stopped and inspected and then stopped and inspected again. The guards were polite and efficient and Meralda was sure nothing escaped their watchful eyes.
If the Vonats intend to start trouble today, she mused, they’ll need to be very clever indeed.
The Bellringers stared out their windows on either side of Meralda, their faces alert and wary. Meralda scanned the streets for Donchen, but if he was there, he was concealed.
The Tower loomed up finally, rising above every other rooftop. The park wall hove into view, its dancing gargoyles still clad in various scraps of Vonat underwear.
It’s nearly all over, thought Meralda. I should be happy.
She thought of watching the Hang five-master sail away, and her heart sank like lead in her chest.
He’ll be leaving soon. I’ve avoided facing that. But once the Accords are done, once the Hang go home, will I ever see him again?
I don’t even know his full name.
“Mistress,” said Mug, his voice tiny and distant over the din of traffic and the rumble of the carriage. “Mistress, I found Donchen. Thought you might be wondering where he is.”
Meralda lifted the speaking device to her lips.
“Thank you, Mug. Where is he?”
“He’s with the Hang. Just milling about, all dressed up in fancy robes of some kind. He doesn’t look happy. Also, he keeps looking about, watching for someone. Wonder who that could be?”
“Thank you, Mug.” Meralda put the device back into her bag.
She thought of the Hang ships leaving again, and pushed all thoughts of Donchen away until her carriage finally reached the park.
From the park down the walk to the stands took another full hour. Meralda spent most of that time resisting a growing urge to scratch at all the places the robes made her itch.
At last, though, she reached the stands, and was ushered to the lofty seats reserved for the king and his retinue.
She climbed past the Phendelit contingent, who nodded and waved. She passed through the glowering ranks of the Alons, who muttered and stared, although Red Mawb did at least nod to her in greeting. The Eryans were friendlier, with several calling out her name and doffing their hats to her as Meralda climbed past. The Vonats, who insisted on occupying seats higher than the Eryans, met Meralda with glares and exchanges of whispers.
Finally, she passed within a shout of Donchen. He waved to her, smiling, and she waved back before the press of the crowd behind her forced her to move on.
The Bellringers were seated at the bottommost rank of the king’s seats. Meralda continued on alone for another half-dozen rows, until she was seated a single rank below the king and queen themselves.
She looked out across the park and struggled to catch her breath.
Not a single patch of green grass showed anywhere. It was as if all five kingdoms of the Realms had somehow dispatched their entire citizenry to take up positions standing in the park.
Hats. A sea of hats. Half bore feathers, half showed flags. All shaded eager faces upturned toward the king.
The noise was deafening, as each of the spectators shouted above the others, until the whole of the park was filled with a growing, thunderous din.
Slowly, the stands filled, as the delegations from each of the Realms took their places. The Vonats stalked in last, their glowers and glares obvious.
Absent from their ranks was Humindorus Nam.
All the while, the shadow of the Tower swung slowly and inexorably over the stands. Mug read off the time at fifteen minute intervals, and Meralda felt her stomach tighten into knots as she realized her shadow moving spell, which was untested and hurried, would be seen by all the Realms in just a few moments.
The king began to leaf through the pages of his speech as the edge of the shadow fell across the podium.
“Mistress,” said Mug, his tone edged with fear. “Mistress. Oh no. mistress, Tower says someone is meddling with the tethers.”
Meralda’s heart froze as she fumbled for the speaking device.
“Tower. The old tethers or the new?”
Mug spoke in the background before answering. “The old ones, mistress. They’re doing the same thing you did. Trying to latch something to the flat.”
“From where? Inside?”
“Tower can’t tell. But no, not inside. From a distance, somehow.”
“Nam.”
“Probably. mistress. Tower says unless he’s stopped, you’ll need to attach your tethers in the next few minutes.”
Meralda stood. She saw the king eye her quizzically, saw a dozen guards tense and look her way.
“Nameless,” she whispered. “Faceless. To me.”
The staves fell into her hands. People about her gasped and stared.
“I’m off to move the shadow,” she shouted, with a smile. “Pray continue, Your Majesty.”
Yvin didn’t blink. “Tend to it, Mage,” he said. “Just as planned.”
Meralda nodded, and the staves lifted her up and whisked her away.
Wind howled in her ears. The robe of office flapped so hard it stung. The air grew cold and then damp and then dry again.
“I need to know where he is,” she said, to the staves. “Show me.”