Chelm, Great Captain General of the Forces of Drantos, Colonel of Mercenaries. He gave the last title in
English. "We are Benjamin Murphy do Dirstval and Lafferty Reznick do Bathis, Merchant Traders of the
Sun Lands."
"The Lord Rick is here and awaits you eagerly," the chamberlain said. "He has been foretold of your coming. He bade me say that his food will be no more than filling for his belly, and his drink no more than moisture for the tongue, until he has spoken with you at last."
"Fat chance the captain ever said that," Murphy said sotto voce. "Bid the Wanax, and the Lord Protector, and Lord Rick a thousand thanks in our names, and tell him that we came in haste to his summons."
There was more ceremony before they were invited to dismount. Eventually they were led into an antechamber. A cheerful fire blazed at one end of the room, and there was a table laid out with wine and food. Washbasins stood on a sideboard. "I will leave you to refresh yourselves," their escort said. He turned a pair of identical sand glasses, and took one with him. "I will return when this is done." The chamberlain bowed and left them.
The women began to chatter, but Murphy made a sharp gesture, and they fell quiet. He eyed the glass. "About twenty minutes. We going to take the women in with us?"
"Why not?" Reznick demanded.
Murphy shrugged. "This is royalist country," he said. "Not like the south where we were. And the girls aren't exactly out of the nobility-"
"Dirdre and Marva are now," Reznick said. "Married me, didn't they? That makes them as good as anybody."
"Okay if you say so. Wonder where the bloody plumbing is?"
"Through there, I'd say," Reznick said. He walked over to a small curtained doorway and looked inside. "Yep. Looks to me like it hangs out over the town. Shall we go relieve ourselves on the commoners?"
"Cap'n?"
Rick Galloway turned from the window as one of the skyrockets burst in crimson. "Yes?"
"Two things," Art Mason said. "Lady Tylara says you're supposed to be downstairs enjoying the fireworks-"
"Hell, I know that," Rick said. He lifted a crystal goblet and tossed off the full cup of wine it held. "Three days we've been on display. Tylara likes all the fuss." He grinned slightly. "Isobel really is a beautiful little thing. I guess Tylara's earned all this glory. But why she wants it is beyond me." He poured another drink.
Mason shrugged. "I never claimed to understand women."
"What was the other thing?"
"Murphy's here."
"Murphy?"
"Private Ben Murphy," Mason said. "Along with Lafe Reznick. Two of the troops that ran away south with Warner and Gengrich. They just showed up at the gate, dressed up like rich southern merchants and attended by some women and bullyboys. Murphy told the officer of the guard that he's got a present for the Eqeta of Chelm, the great Captain General of the Host of Drantos-"
"Humph."
"Hell, he's layin' it on thicker'n glue, Cap'n. But I think you'll like the present. It's all wrapped up in silk and gold cloth, but it's about yay long and maybe this big around-"
"The recoilless!"
"Could be," Mason said. "It just could be. Anyway, he's downstairs in the entry hall. I checked with Elliot and we had the chamberlain give him wine and some chow, and I figured I'd better get you before that Camithon gets at him."
"Yes. Good thinking. I'll come." He started toward the door.
"Not without we dress you proper," Mason protested. "Wait, Cap'n. I'll help you into your armor."
"I do not need armor."
"Hell you don't," Mason said. "Cap'n, now dammit I mean it, don't you go down there without your mail shirt. Here, take the pistol off. That's it. Now duck-" Despite Rick's protests, Mason eased him into a shirt woven of tiny metal rings.
"Damn thing's too heavy," Rick said.
"Wasn't heavy it wouldn't do much good," Mason said. "Here, lift your arm-" Deftly he buckled Rick's pistol and combat knife under his captain's left arm. "Now you look proper."
"And feel like an idiot."
"No, sir." Mason was emphatic. "You gotta be practical."
I've been practical all my life, Rick thought. I do the sensible, practical thing, and I feel like a coward half the time.
Mason saw Rick's expression. "Cap'n, you don't know what Murphy wants. I grant you, he probably didn't come to make trouble. Not coming inside the gates like that. But Christ, Cap'n, this whole place is about to explode. Ambassadors from both Roman outfits. That diplomat from the Five Kingdoms, he's nothing more than a spy-hell, they're still technically at war with us! Not to mention our own nobles. Wasn't an hour ago I had to disarm two of those barons, Dragomer and Kilantis-"
"Who?"
"Couple of the barons who went over to Sarakos," Mason said. "Took advantage of the amnesty after we beat Sarakos. They come from the north central hills."
"Yeah. I remember," Rick said. "Hard to blame them for going over, being that close to the Five Kingdoms and all. Why disarm them?"
"Fighting over something. I didn't bother to find out what. Just got their dirks."
"They drew steel in the palace?"
"Yeah."
"Where was Wanax Ganton?"
"Up watching the fireworks," Mason said. "Hell, Cap'n, if they'd drawn weapons while the kid or the old geezer was there I'd've done a lot more than disarm them, you know that."
"Yeah. Sorry. All right, let's go." He led the way to the thick nail-studded door and pulled. It opened slowly. It ought to, Rick thought. The damn thing must weigh five hundred pounds in this gravity. One heavy mother. There were men outside the door. Rick nodded to Jamiy, his orderly, and the brace of Guardsmen. Then he turned to the fourth man who stood stiffly aloof from the others. "Captain Caradoc."
"My lord." Caradoc was dressed in bright-colored kilts. He wore a jewel-handled dirk at his waist. A bow and quiver hung over his shoulder. He was no older than Rick. Caradoc bowed deeply, and waited until Rick returned the greeting before straightening.
"It's good to see you again," Rick said. "How went your journey?"
"Well enough, my lord. I had fast horses and Yatar's favor."
"I'm pleased to hear it." Rick put as much warmth in his voice as he could. More than once Caradoc had saved Rick and his family. Caradoc was really Tylara's man, henchman of her father, son of one of her father's subchiefs. Loyal men high in the Tamaerthan clan system were rare…
"We'll go down to audience hall," Mason said. One of the guards went ahead at a trot. The second walked ahead of Rick. Mason walked alongside Rick, with Jamiy and Caradoc following.
All this rigmarole just to go downstairs, Rick thought. Places of honor and all. And yet there really are damned few I can trust to walk behind me with weapons.
They went down a narrow stone stairway to a broad hall hung with tapestries, then along that to an arched entry into a much larger chamber.
Rick had just gotten inside when he heard a gravelly voice call, "Make way. Make way for the Wanax of Drantos." A party came through another entrance. First two men-at-arms. Then the King's Companion, Morrone, a lordling Rick found a bit pretentious. Next came Camithon, the scar-faced Lord Protector.
"Who ranks who?" Mason asked in English.
"I'll have to think," Rick said. It was a hell of a complex question. As Protector, Camithon ranked everyone except the king. On the other hand, before he became Lord Protector he'd been Tylara's general, and he held most of his lands as a mere bheroman in her service. If that wasn't complex enough, Rick and Tylara were technically host and hostess here, since Wanax Ganton had generously offered his palace to Tylara during her confinement and delivery. Which made Camithon guardian to Rick's honored guest- "My lord," Camithon growled. He bowed slightly.