I may have already learned the first lesson of kingship too well, he thought, forcing himself to relax as he sipped from a goblet of wine. I've started to expect a knife between my shoulders no matter where I go.
Whether it was Carina's antidote or the passage of several days, Tris felt much recovered from the wormroot. He shuddered as he recalled the empty feeling of having his power out of reach. Its absence felt as if something vital were pulled from the marrow of his very bones, and he did not doubt Carina's observation that a long, strong dosing of wormroot could indeed kill or drive a mage to madness. He resolved to take up the issue with the Sisterhood at the first opportunity.
Better to have run into it now, when I can figure out how to deal with it, than later, when I'm up against Jared.
He finished an unhurried bath to the obvious satisfaction of the servants assigned to his care. Tris wondered how much Berry had stressed that the servants were to see to his every need, for despite having grown up with valets and footmen, Tris could not recall being pampered so lavishly , even in his own kingdom.
The bells of the courtyard tower were ringing the supper hour as Tris straightened his tunic and paced in the reception room, awaiting his companions. Staden's servants had done remarkably well at finding clothes to fit, and he now awaited the banquet in a gray tunic and slacks of the finest satin, chagrined at the costumier who insisted on adding what he called a "wizard's cloak" to complete the outfit. Catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror, Tris had to admit that he looked the part of a Summoner, a spirit mage dressed in the color of shadows.
Carroway and Soterius arrived together. Carroway was obviously enjoying their first opportunity in nearly three months to dress for court. The bard wore a flamboyant tunic of gem-toned silks, with draping sleeves and bright colors. Soterius could not have appeared more different in a muted outfit of hunter's green, devoid completely of ornamentation, remarkable only for the luxuriousness of its brocade and the perfection of its fit. To their surprise, Gabriel arrived a few moments later, dressed head to toe in midnight blue.
"The Sisters told me that I might find you here," the vayash moru said off-handedly at his unexpected appearance.
"No! I won't do it. You can beg me all you like. Bad enough that I can't take my sword. Be off with you!" Tov Harrtuck arrived, still arguing with the valet who had been assigned to him, adamant that he would continue to wear his worn leather vest over a rich brown brocade ensemble.
The costumier pulled at the scuffed vest, attempting to wrest it away by force, but Harrtuck scowled and held his ground like a terrier with a bone, prompting chuckles from Tris and the others. "Please, sir, reconsider. You're to be the guests of the King tonight! Surely you can make an exception—"
"I like my vest," Harrtuck retorted. "And you've already gotten me into these... things," he said with a wave toward his fine clothes. Tris realized that in all the years he had known the armsmaster, he had never once, no matter the occasion, seen Harrtuck dressed for anything but the barracks.
"Sir, please—" The costumier was almost in tears, but Harrtuck was resolute, though it appeared that the stolid fighter had availed himself of the proffered bath and made an attempt to tame his unruly hair and groom his recently regrown beard.
"No! I will not! Now go," Harrtuck said, shooing his groomers away with a flurry of waving arms. "Go dress Vahanian. It'll take half a dozen of you just to get his sword away from him," he said, chasing the flummoxed servants from the room. He shut the door soundly behind him, standing hands on hips as if ready should the servants return. He turned toward Tris and the others, grumbling under his breath as he scratched at his beard.
"Lady and Whore!" he exclaimed. "What's the use of making a body miserable for a feast, I ask you?" he continued, in such obvious distress that Tns and Carroway burst out laughing.
"Oh yes, go ahead, have a good laugh," he said as even Soterius joined in. "Our little peacock finally has his finery back," he said with a good-natured jibe at Carroway. "And Ban here was thinking of nothing but the ladies when he dressed." "Now it's not so bad," Tris answered, trying to keep his laughter out of his voice. "I didn't think they did too badly with me."
Harrtuck paused and looked Tris over from head to toe. "Aye, my liege, you're right. Anyone who saw you would know you for a wizard, and a king," he said, with unexpected seriousness. Then he shook his head, returning to his self-pity. "On the other hand, it's a waste of good cloth to dress up the likes of me," he added, giving Soterius a scowl when the soldier vigorously agreed. Whatever more might have been said was lost as the doors opened to admit the rest of their companions.
Royster strode into the room first, a wide grin on his face and a bounce in his step. His wild, snow-white hair was trimmed and tamed under a scholar's cap, and the thin little man beamed with pride at the flowing academic robe that replaced his riding gear. He hummed a tavern ditty and executed a sprightly pirouette for his audience. "Not bad, don't you think?" he said with a broad wink. "Oh, it almost makes me wish Kessen were here!" He looked quickly at Tris. "Not that I'd want you to summon him, mind you, but it would make him pop to see me in this! Scholar's robes indeed! I hope we get to keep them," he said impishly. "I'll save them until I'm back at the Library and wear them every day, just to vex him!"
Kiara and Carina entered together, the Isencroft princess leading the way into the room, with Jae circling overhead. Gone were Kiara's riding leathers and breastplate, the solid boots and coarsely woven cloak. In their place was a copper-colored gown of silk that played off her auburn hair and enhanced the firm-toned contours of her body by its slim cut. Tris met her eyes across the room and blushed as a smile crept to her lips, realizing that his expression betrayed his appreciation. Jae landed lightly on her shoulder, and Tris noted that the little gyregon now wore a slim gold chain around his throat.
Carina was a step behind. A green gown of Mussa silk replaced her healer's robes, and a headband of pearls secured her short black hair. But where Kiara's ease was apparent as she teased with the others and glowingly accepted their compliments, Carina hung back, and Tris realized that the court healer was at a loss outside of her role of physician, without the barrier that the status of her robes made easy to enforce.
"You clean up well," Vahanian said from behind her, and Carina blushed scarlet.
"At least it's green," she managed, for once at a loss for words.
Vahanian chuckled. "I've always wondered what healers wore beneath their robes," he murmured. Carina feigned an outraged swing at him which Vahanian dodged easily. "Hey, take it easy. All I meant was that you give Kiara competition in that dress."
"Really?" she replied, with a glance toward Kiara, who was joking with Carroway about the brightness of his waistcoat.
"Absolutely," Vahanian replied, executing a courtly bow without a hint of mockery. He was dressed head to toe in black velvet, with just the lightest hint of gold around the collar and cuffs. It complemented his hair and complexion perfectly, and Tris decided that Berry herself must have had a hand in their wardrobe. The only items out of place were Vahanian's scuffed black boots and the absence of a sword belt around his waist.
The mercenary pulled at his collar uncomfortably. "I still want to know whose rule it is that we can't take our swords. Stupid rule if you ask me."
"You can't wear a sword in the presence of the King," Carina replied. "Everyone knows that."
"Excuse me," Vahanian retorted, returning to their usual banter, "but everyone doesn't spend their days at court. I don't go anywhere without my sword."