"Do we know him?"
"I believe you have had some contact in the past"
The boy seemed almost to float down from his chair. "This way."
"Who can it be?" murmured D'Averc to Hawkmoon. "Who would we know who would come to Dnark?"
Chapter Seven
A Well-Known Traveller
THEY FOLLOWED JEHEMIA Cohnahlias through the winding, organic corridors of the building. Now they were lighter, for the glowing shadowsthe Great Good Ones as the boy had described themhad vanished. Presumably their task had been to help guide Hawkmoon and D'Averc to the child.
At last they entered a larger hall in which had been set a long table, presumably made of the same substance as the walls, and benches, also of the same stuff. Food had been laid on the tablerelatively simple fare: fish, bread and green vegetables.
But it was the figure at the far end of the hall who attracted their attention, who made their hands go automatically to their swords while their faces assumed expressions of angry astonishment.
It was Hawkmoon who got the words out at last, between clenched teeth.
"Shenegar Trott!"
The fat figure moved heavily towards them, -his plain, silver mask apparently a parody of the features beneath it.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Dorian Hawkmoon and Huillam D'Averc, is it not?"
Hawkmoon turned to the boy. "Do you realise who this creature is?"
"An explorer from Europe," he said.
"He is the Count of Sussexone of King Huon's righthand men. He has raped half Europe! He is second only to Baron Meliadus in the evil he has wrought!"
"Come now," Trott said, his voice soft and amused. "Let us not begin by insulting each other. We are on neutral ground here. The issues of war are another matter. Since they do not at the moment concern us, then I suggest we behave in a civilised mannerand not insult our young host here…"
Hawkmoon glowered. "How did you come to Dnark, Count Shenegar?"
"By ship, Duke of Koln. Our Baron Kalanwhom I understand you have met…" Trott chuckled as Hawkmoon automatically put his hand to the black jewel Kalan had earlier placed there… "he invented a new kind of engine to propel our ships at great speed over the sea. Based on the engine that gives power to our ornithopters, I gather, but more sophisticated. I was commissioned by our wise King Emperor to journey to Amarahk, there to make friendly advances to the powers dwelling here…"
"To discover their strengths and weaknesses before you attacked, you mean!" Hawkmoon shouted. "It is impossible to trust a servant of the Dark Empire!"
The boy spread his hands and a look of sorrow crossed his face. "Here in Dnark we seek only equilibrium. That, after all, is the goal and reason for existence of the Runestaff, which we are here to protect. Save your disputes, I beg you, for the battlefield and join together to eat the food we have prepared."
"But I must warn you," Huillam D'Averc said in a lighter tone than Hawkmoon had used, "that Shenegar Trott is not here to bring peace. Wherever he goes, he brings evil and disruption. Be preparedfor he is considered to be the most cunning lord in all Granbretan."
The boy seemed embarrassed and merely gestured again to the table. "Please be seated."
"And where is your fleet, Count Shenegar?" D'Averc asked as he sat down on the bench and pulled a plate of fish towards him.
"Fleet?" Trott replied innocently. "I did not mention a fleetonly my ship, which is moored with its crew a few miles away from the city."
"Then it must be a large ship indeed," murmured Hawkmoon, biting at a hunk of bread, "for it is unlike a count of the Dark Empire to make a journey unprepared for conquest."
"You forget that we are scientists and scholars, too, in Granbretan," Trott said, as if mildly offended. "We seek knowledge and truth and reason. Why, our whole intention in uniting the warring states of Europe was to bring a rational peace to the world, so that knowledge could progress the faster."
D'Averc coughed ostentatiously, but said nothing. Trott now did something that in a Dark Empire noble was virtually unprecedented, for he cheerfully pushed back his mask and began to eat. In Granbretan it was considered gross indecency both to display the face and to eat in public. Trott, Hawkmoon knew, had always been thought eccentric in Granbretan, tolerated by the other nobles only by virtue of his vast private fortune, his skill as a general and, in spite of his flabby appearance, a warrior of considerable personal courage.
The face revealed was the one caricatured on the mask. It was white, plump and intelligent. The eyes were without expression, but it was plain Shenegar Trott could put whatever expression he chose into them.
They ate in relative silence. Only the boy touched none of the food, though he sat with them.
At length Hawkmoon gestured to the count's bulky silver armour. "Why do you travel in such heavy accoutrement, Count Shenegar, if you are on a peaceful mission of exploration?"
Shenegar Trott smiled. "Whyhow was I to anticipate what dangers I should have to face in this strange city? Surely it is logical to travel well-prepared?" D'Averc changed the subject as if he realised they would receive nothing but smooth answers from the Granbretanian. "How goes the war in Europe?" he asked.
"There is no war in Europe," Trott answered.
"No war! Then why should we be hereexiles from our own lands?" Hawkmoon said.
"There is no war, because all of Europe is now at peace under the patronage of our good King Huon," Shenegar Trott said, and then he gave a faint winkalmost a comradely winkwhich made it impossible for Hawkmoon to reply.
"Save for the Kamarg, that is," Trott continued. "And that, of course, has vanished altogether. My fellow peer Baron Meliadus was quite enraged by that."
"I'm sure he was," said Hawkmoon. "And does he still continue his vendetta against us?"
Indeed he does. In fact when I left Londra, he was in danger of becoming a laughing stock at court."
"You seem to feel little affection for Baron Meliadus," D'Averc suggested.
"You understand me well," Count Shenegar told him. "You see we are not all such insane and greedy men as you would think. I have many disputes with Baron Meliadus. Though I am loyal to my motherland and my leader, I do not agree with everything done in their namesindeed, what I myself have done. I follow my orders. I am a patriot." Shenegar Trott shrugged his bulky shoulders. "I would prefer to stay at home, reading and writing. I was once thought a promising poet, you know."
"But now you write only epitaphsand those in blood and fire," Hawkmoon said.
Count Shenegar did not seem hurt. Instead he replied reasonably. "You have your point of view, I have mine. I believe in the ultimate sanity of our causethat the unification of the world is of maximum importance, that personal ambitions, no matter how noble, must be sacrificed to the larger principles."
"That is the usual bland Granbretanian answer," Hawkmoon said, unconvinced. "It is the argument that Meliadus used to Count Brass shortly before he attempted to rape and carry off his daughter Yisselda!"
"I have already disassociated myself from Baron Meliadus," Count Shenegar said. "Every court must have its fool, every great ideal must attract some who are motivated only by self-interest."
Shenegar Trott's answers seemed more directed at the quietly listening boy than at Hawkmoon and D'Averc themselves.
The meal finished, Trott pushed back his plate and resettled his silver mask over his face. He turned to the boy. "I thank you, sir, for your hospitality. Nowyou promised me I might look upon and admire the Runestaff. It will give me great joy to stand before that legendary artefact…"