When finally the announcement was over, and the congratulations had all been passed around, Ashe announced that a state dinner in Gwydion’s honor would commence immediately following. The invited guests swirled politely around him, proffering their congratulations again, and talking among themselves.
Just as the group prepared to depart the Great Hall for the dining room, the ambassador from Gaematria, the Island of the Sea Mages, Jal’asee, bent his head slightly and spoke in a tone inaudible to all but Ashe. The Lord Cymrian nodded.
“Uncle,” he called to Anborn, who was preparing to be carried out of the Hall, “indulge us for a moment?”
The Lord Marshal’s brow furrowed, but he signaled to his bearers to wait.
“Go along to the dinner, Melly,” Gwydion Navarne said to his sister. “I will be right there.”
“I’ll see if I can save a seat for you,” Melisande said, amusement in her black eyes. “It would be unfortunate if you had to stand in the back at your own celebration.” She turned and followed the heads of state out of the Great Hall, her golden curls bouncing merrily.
The dukes of the provinces of Roland and Tristan Steward, the Overlord Regent, remained as well, watching with interest as Jal’asee walked slowly down the carpeted aisle and came to a stop in front of the Lord Marshal. He nodded to two members of his retinue, who opened the doors of one of the side rooms and disappeared inside, returning a moment later with an enormous pallet on which a huge wooden crate was carried. With great effort they set it down in front of Anborn, then respectfully and quickly withdrew.
“What’s all this?” the Lord Marshal demanded, eyeing the wooden crate suspiciously.
The elderly Seren cleared his throat, his golden eyes gleaming.
“A gift from your brother, Edwyn Griffyth, High Sea Mage of Gaematria,” he said. His voice, soft, deep, and crackling with an alien energy, sent shivers down Gwydion’s spine. The duke-to-be glanced over at Rhapsody, and saw that she was similarly affected; she was listening intently, as if to music she had never heard before.
Anborn snorted. “I want nothing from him,” he said disdainfully, “least of all something that has to be carried in on a litter. It’s an insult. Take it away.”
Jal’asee’s placid expression did not change in the face of the harsh reply. He merely reached into the folds of his robe and pulled forth a small sheaf of cards, and held them up silently, indicating they were instructions from Edwyn. Ashe nodded.
“With respect,” the tall man said in his pleasantly gravelly voice. He consulted the first card, cleared his throat again, and read it aloud.
“ ‘Don’t be a childish ass. Open your gift.’ ”
A low chuckle rippled through the hall among the dukes. Anborn glared at them, then at the Seren ambassador. Jal’asee smiled benignly. The Lord Marshal inhaled deeply, then exhaled loudly and signaled to the attendants to open the crate.
The members of Jal’asee’s retinue hurried to unlatch the crate, then stepped back as the wooden walls fell neatly away.
Inside was a gleaming machine, fashioned in metal. It stood upright, with steel foot pads supported by articulated joints, which seemed to be controlled by two geared wheels with handholds. The assemblage took in its breath collectively; otherwise, silence reigned in the Great Hall.
“What in the name of my brother’s shrunken, undersized balls is that?” Anborn asked scornfully.
Jal’asee coughed politely, flipped the top card to the back of the sheaf, and peered at the next one.
“ ‘It’s a walking machine, you dolt. It has been designed precisely to your height, weight, and girth, and should serve to allow you to walk upright, assisted, once again. And you would do well not to comment on the size of my genitalia—it may give rise to embarrassing questions about your own manhood.’ ”
Anborn raised himself up angrily on his fists. “I don’t want it!” he roared. “Take that infernal contraption back to my brother and tell him to bugger himself with it.”
Patiently Jal’asee flipped the top card back again, and read the next one.
“ ‘There is no need to be foul. And I am not paying to transport it back. It’s staying. You may as well make the best of it.’ ”
Anborn eyed the metal walker with a blackening brow, then suddenly turned in the direction of the Gaematrian ambassador once again.
“Tell my brother I said ‘thank you,’ ” he said with exaggerated politeness.
Jal’asee blinked, then quickly riffled through the remaining cards, finally looking up with a pained expression on his ancient face.
“I—er—do not appear to have a response to that,” he said in amused embarrassment. “I don’t believe your brother anticipated that as a possible reply.”
“HA! Got him!” Anborn crowed. He signaled to his bearers. “Get me out of here; I’m missing dinner.” His attendants picked him up and carried him from the Hall, leaving the dukes, the ambassadors, and the lord and lady staring after him in a mixture of humor and bewilderment. The dukes, talking among themselves, followed behind him.
Ashe went over to the walking machine and examined it carefully. “Edwyn’s abilities as an inventor and a smith never cease to amaze me,” he said, a tone of wonder in his voice. “It is marvelous to see the genius he inherited from his father put to good and helpful uses, rather than the destructive ones that Gwylliam employed.”
“Gwylliam wasn’t always destructive,” Rhapsody said, watching as Ashe turned the hand crank slowly, making the right foot pad rise and step forward, then reversing it. “He is responsible for many useful and pleasant inventions—the halls of Ylorc are lighted with sconces he designed; the mountain is warmed and cooled through ventilation systems of his making; there are even privies within the depths of the mountain. When Ylorc was still Canrif, his masterwork, it boasted some of the most sophisticated and clever inventions in the world. You should take pride in your grandfather’s accomplishments as well as ruing his follies.”
She felt a light touch on her elbow, and turned to see Jal’asee standing behind her. She looked up into his face and returned his smile.
“M’lady, if I might, I would like to speak with you alone for a moment,” Jal’asee said pleasantly.
Rhapsody looked over at Ashe, who was watching her questioningly, and nodded.
“Go ahead with the dukes, Sam,” she said quietly, addressing him by the name she called him privately. “I will be along in a moment.” She waited until her husband and Gwydion had left the room; once alone, she looked back up at Jal’asee.
“Yes?”
The Ancient Seren ambassador’s pleasant expression faded into one that was more serious.
“M’lady, is the Bolg king to be invited to young Gwydion’s investiture at the winter carnival?”
“Of course,” Rhapsody said. “Why?”
“Is he likely to attend?”
She exhaled, then shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. He has been away from his kingdom for an extended period.” Her face flushed; it was her rescue that had required him to be away thus. “Why do you ask, Your Excellency?”
The tall man looked down at her seriously. “I am hoping that you will do me the honor of introducing me to him, and arranging a brief moment of consultation.” The gravelly voice was light, but Rhapsody could hear in it the unmistakable seriousness of the words.
“I can certainly introduce you if he is there, but I cannot promise he will be willing to speak at length with you,” she said. “Achmed is—well, he can be—unpredictable.”
“I understand,” Jal’asee said. “And I am grateful for whatever intervention you can provide. I plan to stay until the solstice and attend the investiture; it would be impossible to travel home and back in the two months’ time from now until then.” His eyes sparkled brightly. “Without extraordinary measures, that is.”