The fire elemental flickered away, leaving nothing in its stead. No trace of oil remained on the floor.
The threesome turned and departed the building. The great doors opened, then closed behind them. As they descended the great staircase, Jeffers asked, “You didn’t wish an appointment master?”
“No,” said Praxle quietly. “There’s no sense in leaving them with my identity when I plan to burgle them in a day or two.”
16
Lady Hathia Stalsun
As Teron, Praxle, and Jeffers turned the final corner on their way back to their lodgings, a squad of a half dozen soldiers stepped out from beneath the eaves of a storefront. The soldiers spread out as they approached, weapons drawn and chain mail chinking.
“You three. Hold,” one of them said.
Teron looked around. Broad daylight, major city street. The odds were fine, and chain mail provided negligible protection against joint locks and blunt impact, but the result of any resistance would be their exposure as “enemies of the peace.” They’d have to abandon Flamekeep immediately, which would make recovering the Thrane notes and the Sphere itself much more difficult.
Teron looked at Praxle and gently shook his head. Praxle nodded.
“What can we do for you on this chilly day?” asked Praxle, sweeping his hat in greeting.
“You’ll come with us.” It was not an answer, but a demand. “Lady Stalsun wishes to speak with you.”
The six guards escorted the wary travelers to a waiting carriage, a large and elegant vehicle that sported the family crest of Stalsun on the door. The three climbed in, followed by a few guards. The other guards climbed on the back as footmen, and the carriage lurched forward as the driver cracked the whip over the horses’ heads.
Praxle stared out the window as they progressed through the city. “These are the widest streets I’ve ever seen in a city,” he said, to no one in particular. He turned to one of the guards. “Why are they built this way?”
The guard looked at her comrades, then decided to answer. “The Voice of the Silver Flame commanded that the city be built this way, with wide avenues so that all feel welcome,” she said. “The city is only five or six hundred years old, and the Voice had seen the choking streets of the other so-called great cities.”
“That’s interesting,” said Praxle. “One would think it would make the city more difficult to defend.”
“Not at all,” said the guard. “Flamekeep was briefly besieged after Shadukar was razed. We found that the wide avenues allowed us to move our forces quickly and easily through the city, to counter attacks or to launch forays of our own. Meanwhile, the Karrns had to march their troops all the way around the city, out of bowshot of our archers. It took them four or five times as long to react. We broke the siege from within with a series of raids, always striking where the Karrns were weakest. Of course, we had to burn the bodies so they wouldn’t raise them again. Nothing’s more annoying than having to kill your enemy twice.”
Praxle pursed his lips as he considered this. “It also makes the city appear cleaner than other large cities I’ve visited,” he said.
“The city is cleaner,” responded the guard.
“Of course.”
The carriage traveled to a smallish estate on the wealthy side of town. Ivy-covered masonry walls surrounded the house, and a guarded gate admitted the carriage. The carriage rolled up a nicely paved path to the front of the house.
A doorman dressed in elegant formal attire gestured Praxle, Teron, and Jeffers from the carriage and led them into the house. He required them to remove their boots and don slippers “to preserve the polish of the floors.”
He then led them into a drawing room and seated them on some comfortable chairs, though not until after he carefully covered the chairs with extra fabric to prevent them from becoming soiled by the companions’ clothing. There was a long silence in which the doorman stared at them dully, and they were forced to remain in their chairs silently.
At long last, the heavy latch to one of the other doors clicked, and as it swung open, the doorman announced, “Lady of the House Hathia Stalsun, Duchess of Shadukar.”
Praxle and Jeffers rose and bowed elegantly. Teron hesitated, then grudgingly rose to match his companions.
In walked a Thrane noblewoman, dressed in an exquisite royal blue gown brocaded in black and gold, finery that had been fashionable five years earlier at best. The hem of the dress hissed across the floor, and the sleeves of the gown covered the backs of her hands. A high stiff neck held her head in a perpetual pose of arrogance, and her half-lidded eyes only added to the appearance. Pale makeup covered her face, obliterating her wrinkles and turning her lipstick a harsh color in comparison; her mouth almost looked like a puckered spear wound. All this was topped by a towering upswept wig adorned with small, dangling jewels.
In spite of the heavy-handed ness of her attire and posture, she still exuded the image of a womanly core. Her arms were graceful and long, her features fine, and even the exaggeration of her corseted middle and the hoopskirt could not totally overshadow the fact that a feminine figure moved beneath the fabric.
She carried a walking stick in one hand, and it tapped the floor regularly as she moved to the largest chair in the room and seated herself quite primly. Once she was seated, twenty guards entered the room. Ten took up positions against the wall behind the lady, while the other ten took up positions uncomfortably close behind the threesome.
The lady delicately raised one hand to cover her mouth as she cleared her throat, then laid it atop the other, which rested upon the head of her walking stick. “My introduction has been made, gentlemen,” she said in a voice that was smooth and full, as if she has been trained for singing. “You will now introduce yourselves to me.”
Praxle gestured the other two to their seats. “Am I to understand that this is an official inquiry, Lady Stalsun?” he asked.
“I take it you have not crossed the path of the Crown Knights,” she said. “If you had, you would know the answer to your question. The Council of Cardinals demands swift justice for wrongdoing in Thrane, and their methods of interrogation are effective, if zealous. While I have no concern over this in cases of the guilty, I do believe that their enthusiasm is often misapplied to those who may actually be innocent. Therefore I give you this one opportunity to speak with me civilly, unofficially, but also candidly. Another such offer shall not be forthcoming, either from this house or from any other citizen in Flamekeep.”
“But, if I may ask, Lady,” countered Praxle, “if this is not an official inquiry … who are you? What is your interest in us?”
“My interest, gentlemen, is the safety of Thrane. I am a lady with a meaningless title. Shadukar was burned to the ground during the Last War. The battle destroyed my family’s entire estate, all their holdings, and all who had sworn them fealty. Of my family, I alone survived, by virtue of having been elsewhere. Fortunately, my family had a number of investments that have provided a helpful stipend. Thus I was able to relocate to this place and survive. Since then, I keep my fingers in a lot of events. It gives me something to do, and I can serve my nation by watching the comings and goings of interesting people.” She shifted her hands on top of her stick. “You will now introduce yourselves to me,” she said, “or I shall be forced to see you to an official representative.”
“That will not be necessary,” said Praxle, “I am Praxle Arrant d’Sivis, of the University of Korranberg. My domestic Jeffers accompanies me everywhere. My traveling companion is Teron, who hails from Aundair. These you may verify with our papers, if you wish.”
Keeping her hands atop her cane, Lady Stalsun pointed with one finger. A guard stepped forward. He glanced at each of their documents, nodded in confirmation, and handed them back.