“Messy, but will get the job done,” she said, sliding it through her belt. “We searched everyone before they came through the gates. He picked it up here.”
Khoshku found his voice. “Your Majesty! Most excellent king! I did not-this is not-I cannot express my horror! This was not my king’s intention-I swear, neither he nor I had any knowledge-”
The wall of flame around Amalie abruptly disappeared as Senneth decided the princess wasn’t in danger. Queen Valri instantly came around the table and hurried to Amalie’s side, putting her arms around the princess. The Riders lowered but did not sheathe their swords, and the shaken guests began to collapse in their chairs. Baryn was staring fixedly at the ambassador, who still had Tayse’s blade about three inches from his throat.
“You will be returned immediately to your own country and be very glad I do not have you executed on the spot,” Baryn said in an icy voice. “I see now why there has been such a long history of distrust between our nations.”
“Majesty, you must believe I had no inkling such a hideous crime would be attempted,” the ambassador begged. “For a man of Karyndein to behave in such a way-I cannot believe-I cannot understand-”
“He’s not a man of Karyndein,” Cammon interrupted, and then everybody was staring at him. He blushed and fell silent.
“Who is he, then?” Senneth said.
Cammon shook his head. “He’s from Gillengaria. I don’t know how he ended up in the ambassador’s train.”
Khoshku looked bewildered. “But-everyone who attends me is from my own country. Why would I need more servants when I have plenty of my own? How did he come to join my company?”
“Let’s ask him,” Wen said in a pleased voice. She twisted her hand through her captive’s hair and yanked back hard. He cried out in pain but didn’t speak.
Suddenly the Karyndein servant broke into low sobs and began confessing in a choked, rapid voice, saying something only the ambassador could understand. Khoshku looked, if possible, even more appalled. “He says that shortly after we sailed into Forten City, a few of my men got into a drunken brawl. There was a dreadful fight, and my servants were overmatched until a few strangers came to their aid. One of my men disappeared-they believed he had run away-but they were too embarrassed to tell me. And this other man, this impostor, he agreed to come with us so I would not realize anyone was missing.” Khoshku looked with horror at the king. “He has been with us all this time. More than a week.”
As clearly as if Tayse had spoken, Cammon could feel the big Rider’s contempt. You are so ill-acquainted with the men who serve you that you can spend a week with a stranger and not realize it? Such a fate would never befall Baryn, who prided himself on a close relationship with each of his Riders.
Though he might not, perhaps, recognize each of his cooks and scullery maids and lower footmen, Cammon thought. How many great lords would? Cammon could catch the same ideas cycling through the minds of all the nobles in the room. I would know my own men…most of them…well, one or two might slip by me. The thought made all of them uncomfortable, Cammon could tell.
“This is a very distressing tale,” Baryn said, but his voice was a degree or two warmer. “We must have time to review your story, interrogate this-this-person, and decide if we believe you are telling the truth.”
“What’s significant is that this brawl occurred in Forten City,” Senneth said. “We have long suspected that Rayson Fortunalt is in league with Halchon Gisseltess in plans to unsettle the throne.”
Now Khoshku was starting to look angry. Cammon could scarcely imagine how the ambassador could have had a worse day, and he did not look like the sort of man who could always keep his ire in check. “No one told us not to sail to Forten City,” he said stiffly. “No one told us outlaws would be lying in wait for us, trying to turn our mission of peace into a bloody debacle.”
Tayse glanced from Senneth to Cammon to the king. “They’re targeting envoys,” he said in a quiet voice. “This is the second one.”
Cammon could feel the bewilderment that swept over everyone else in the room, but the three of them nodded back. Of course. The assassin who had crept into Ghosenhall a couple of weeks ago had been dressed in Arberharst colors, but he had been a Gillengaria man with murder to his credit.
“And we have to believe they’ll keep trying,” Senneth said.
Finally, Tayse slipped his sword back in its scabbard. “And they won’t always come in disguise.”
“I demand to know what is happening in Gillengaria and why I have been chosen to appear as a villain,” said Khoshku, truly beginning to work up some righteous indignation. “It seems there is trouble in the realm and I have stumbled into the middle of it! Explain this to me! All of it!”
Baryn merely turned his gentle smile on Khoshku and waved everyone else to their seats. “In good time, my dear ambassador. Let us now finish our meal, so rudely interrupted. I believe there is some excellent wine waiting to be served, and it will make all of us feel very much better.”
NATURALLY, the rest of the luncheon was an awkward, rushed affair, strange and uncomfortable even after the Riders had carried off the impostor. Cammon could tell that all the marlords and marladies were relieved when it was over, and Valri hurried Amalie out of the room as quickly as she could. Riders reappeared to escort Khoshku into a private conference with the king, and Cammon was off duty.
He was still in the kitchen, stuffing himself with leftover food, when Senneth came looking for him.
“Well done,” she said, ruffling his hair. “The king has directed Milo to give you all sorts of rewards-bags of gold or some such thing. I told him to have it delivered to Jerril’s.”
Cammon was pleased, more by the praise than the money, because what use did he have for gold? He didn’t own anything, and didn’t want anything, either. “It seems he would be better off hiring me to protect him than Amalie.”
“He considers Amalie more valuable.”
“So is this going to happen again and again? Murderers sneaking into the city to try to kill the king?”
Senneth sighed, glanced around, and pulled up a chair. He was sitting at the massive table in the middle of the enormous kitchen, and probably twenty cooks and scullery maids were scurrying around them, cleaning up the remains of the meal. Not the most private place to have a conversation. Still, by now everyone in the palace compound, down to the youngest groom in the stables, knew there had been an attempt on the life of the king.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “We have heard talk of war for a year now. If I were to guess, I would say Halchon Gisseltess and his allies are waiting for good weather before making an assault on the throne. They plan to take us into battle-but if they can kill Baryn first, they will be that much closer to their goal.”
“Then-like I said-”
She smiled. “He has the Riders to protect him. You need to watch over Amalie.” She glanced around the kitchen again. “Actually, I thought you could watch over both of them. If you’re living at the palace, you’ll be able to sense anyone who comes in and out of the gates.”
“Living at the palace? I thought-”
“I know. I’ve sent to Jerril for your things.” She took in his borrowed costume, and her smile widened. “Though I don’t know why I bothered. My guess is Milo will provide you with an entirely new wardrobe, since your own is so atrocious.”
Cammon felt a certain excitement-What an honor! Commanded to serve at the will of the king!-and a certain disquiet. What if he failed, what if no one liked him, what if he embarrassed himself and the royalty he was set to serve? And what would Jerril and Lynnette do-and Areel-without him there? For he completed many of the harder physical chores, and his sunny disposition cheered their bleaker days-he didn’t have to be a reader to know that, they had each told him so. They viewed him as a sort of favored nephew or grandson. “Can I go back some days?” he said. “Just to visit?”