Sterren nodded. Lura obviously loved to talk, another resemblance to her father, he thought. He wondered if he had finally found someone who would tell him everything he wanted to know about Semma Castle and its inhabitants; certainly, Lura wasn’t reticent.
On the other hand, how much would she actually know? Gossip about her sisters was one thing; a warlord’s duties were quite another.
“Are you really a warlord?” she asked, breaking his chain of thought.
“So they tell me,” he said.
“Have you killed a lot of people?”
Sterren shuddered. “I’ve never killed anyone,” he said, emphatically.
“Oh.” Lura was clearly disappointed by this revelation. She did not let that slow her for long, however.
“What’s it like in Ethshar?” she asked.
Involuntarily, Sterren glanced out the broad windows at the endless plains to the north. “Crowded,” he said. He pointed out the window. “Imagine,” he said, “that you were on the top of the tower at Westgate, looking east across the city. The eastern wall would be halfway to the... to where the sun comes up, and everything in between would be streets and shops and houses, all crowded inside the walls.” He didn’t know any word for “horizon,” and hoped Lura would understand what he meant.
Lura looked out the window and asked, “What about farms?”
“Outside the walls, never inside.”
She looked skeptical, and he saw no point in arguing about it. “You asked,” he said with a shrug.
She shrugged in reply. “You’re right,” she said, “I did. When are you coming downstairs? Everybody’s waiting to meet you.”
“They are?”
“Well, of course they are, silly! Come on, right now; I know Shirrin wants to meet you, especially.”
“She does?” Even when he remembered who Shirrin was — one of Lura’s sisters, and therefore a princess — Sterren could not imagine why she would particularly want to meet him.
“Yes, she does. Come on!”
Sterren glanced helplessly around at the room. He had no idea what his position was relative to this little terror of a princess; certainly, she must outrank him, but would her youth affect her authority to order him about?
He couldn’t be sure of that. Reluctantly, he followed her as she marched out of the room.
Once in the hallway. Alder and Dogal fell in step behind him, and together the four of them tramped down the six nights of stairs to the door of the throne room. He stopped there to catch his breath while Lura waited impatiently.
They did not enter the throne room, but turned aside at the last moment and headed down a short corridor and through an unmarked door of age-darkened oak. Beyond was an antechamber, paneled in smoke-stained wood and furnished with heavy velvet-upholstered benches; Lura led Sterren directly through this and on through another door.
This gave into a sunny little sitting room, and as Sterren entered, Lura leading him by the hand, he glimpsed the inhabitants leaping to their feet.
He found himself facing two women and a girl a few years younger than himself, all richly dressed, all standing and staring at him.
“Shirrin, look who I found!” Lura announced.
The girl blushed bright red and glanced about as if looking for some way to escape. Seeing none, she stared defiantly back at Sterren, her cheeks crimson.
The older woman looked reprovingly at Sterren’s guide. “Lura,” she said, “watch your manners.”
The younger woman simply stood, silently gazing down her nose at Sterren. It was quite obvious that she had noticed his attire and didn’t think much of it.
Or maybe she didn’t think much of him in any case; Sterren couldn’t be sure. He had the distinct impression, however, that the woman would have sniffed with disdain if sniffing were not perhaps a trifle vulgar. He smiled politely.
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Sterren of Ethshar, Sterren Ninth Warlord, they call me.”
“My lord Sterren,” the older woman said, smiling in return, “what a pleasure to meet you! I’m Ashassa, formerly of Thanoria, and these are my daughters, Nissitha,” with a nod toward the younger woman, “and Shirrin,” with a nod toward the blushing girl. “Lura you have already met, I take it.”
“Yes,” Sterren said, “she introduced herself.” He realized, with a twinge of dismay, that he was speaking to the Queen of Semma, and had presumably just come barging into the royal family’s private quarters.
At that thought, he glanced around quickly.
The room was pleasant enough; a floor of square-cut white stone was partly covered by bright-hued carpets, and white-painted paneling covered the walls on three sides. The fourth side was mostly window, the glass panes arranged in ornate floral patterns and the leading picked out with red and white paint. Several couches stood handy, all covered in red velvet, and a few small tables of white marble and black iron were scattered about.
Nothing was extraordinarily luxurious, however. Sterren had seen rooms of similar size and appointments, though never in any style quite like this one, back in Ethshar.
The queen was nodding. “I’m afraid Lura can be somewhat impetuous,” she said. “Of course, we’ve all been looking forward to meeting you, our long-lost cousin.”
“A very distant cousin, of course,” Nissitha interjected, with a meaningful glance at Sterren’s tunic.
“Lura said that you wanted to meet me,” Sterren acknowledged. “She mentioned Shirrin in particular, thought I don’t-”
He was interrupted by a shriek from Princess Shirrin. The red had faded somewhat from her cheeks, but now it flooded back more brightly than ever, and she turned and ran from the room.
Sterren stared after her, astonished.
Lura burst into giggles. Nissitha stared down at her youngest sister in clear disgust. The queen’s expression shifted to polite dismay.
“Did I say something wrong?” Sterren asked, hoping he hadn’t just condemned himself to a dungeon or worse.
“Oh, no,” Queen Ashassa reassured him, “or at least, not really. It’s Lura’s doing. And of course, Shirrin’s being foolish, too. She’s thirteen, you know, a very sensitive age, and Lura’s doing her best to embarrass her. Don’t let it worry you.” She turned to Lura and said sternly, “Lura, you go apologize to your sister!”
Lura’s giggling suddenly stopped. “For what?” she demanded, “I didn’t do anything!”
“Do as I say!” the queen thundered, pointing.
Lura knew better than to argue any further; she marched off after Shirrin.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” the queen said when Lura had closed the door behind her. “Those girls love to tease each other. You see, Shirrin’s all full of romantic stories about Ethshar and warlords and lost heirs ever since our theurgist, Agor, first told us about you, and Lura’s been making fun of her for it.”
“Silly things,” Nissitha remarked. “Getting worked up over nothing!”
Sterren was at a loss for a reply. “Ah,” he said.
“Well, then, my lord,” Queen Ashassa said, “as long as you’re here, Lura was quite right, we’ve all been eager to meet you and talk with you. You must understand, none of us have ever been more than a few leagues from this castle; my ancestral home in Thanoria is only six leagues or so, and that’s the furthest any of us has traveled. Ethshar seems unspeakably exotic. Do sit down and tell us something about it!”
Sterren glanced at his guards, but Dogal and Alder were being steadfastly silent. Seeing no polite way to refuse, he reluctantly and delicately seated himself on one of the velvet couches, while Queen Ashassa and Princess Nissitha settled onto others, and asked, “What can I tell you?”