Sparrow smiled until he met Achan's eyes. Then he focused on his hands in his lap.
How could this be? Sparrow was deserting him?
"Don't feel obligated to dance tonight, Your Highness," Sir Caleb said. "We're here to recruit men, not inappropriate love interests, of which there will be plenty."
"I disagree," Sir Eagan said. "He must dance with every lady, for most have fathers who'll be pleased to see him pay their daughters mind and will support him because of it."
Sir Caleb sighed. "I suppose. But take care not to pay more attention to any one girl, Your Highness."
Achan's stomach flipped. No pressure there. "Wouldn't it be safer to skip the formality of a banquet and keep moving? I mean, since Esek is nearby, won't he come looking here?"
"We have voiced the same concern," Sir Gavin said. "But Lord Livna refuses to hear us. Tomorrow we'll meet with him and the captain of his guard to discuss when the army will assemble and depart for Carmine."
A tingling haze clouded Achan's mind as if this were all a dream. He could scarcely imagine that in two days' time, he'd lead a host of soldiers south with the intent of starting a war.
That evening, the guard stopped them before they could enter the great hall. "Wait to be announced."
To Achan's utter horror, a trumpet sounded and a herald cried out at the top of his lungs, "Make way for Prince Gidon Hadar and his royal Kingsguardsmen!"
The guard nodded and stepped aside.
Applause burst forth, bringing a chill over Achan's arms. "Gee, I wonder where that Achan fellow might be? No one will ever find him with that introduction."
Keep the sarcasm in your head, Your Highness, Sir Caleb said.
Achan took a deep breath and entered. The great hall stretched out before him, long and narrow built of rough hewn logs. A three-tier chandelier made of deer antlers and lit with dozens of stubby white candles hung in the center of the hammer beam roof. Flags bearing Tsaftown's gold and black crest hung from every other beam.
Achan stood on the center of a narrow platform that stretched the width of the hall. A half-dozen steps descended from it. A golden runner covered the floor under his boots, spilled down the center of the stairs, and ran all the way to the dais platform. A black and gold checkered cloth covered the high table that was only half occupied. A dagfish carved from wood was mounted in the center of the wall behind the high table. Antlers were mounted on either side of the dagfish.
Tables stretching the length of the hall were packed with food and people dressed in expensive, courtly attire, who all stood staring. The applause died down.
Sir Caleb's finger in Achan's back sent him walking forward, dream-like, down the stairs and up the center aisle. He briefly opened his mind and sensed overwhelming excitement and support. He also sensed a hint of deceit. He stopped where the golden rug split around the length of the dais and ran up a small stairs at each end of the platform.
An unpleasant feeling grew in the pit of Achan's stomach. He scanned the hall, seeking for the source of the deceit. Be ready, Achan said to Sir Gavin. I sense some trickery.
From Lord Livna?
Achan bowed to the Lord Livna, who stood behind his seat at the high table, and concentrated on the man's thoughts.
My, he looks like his father. Praise Arman, we'll be spared. Spared!
No, Achan said to Sir Gavin. Despite having sacrificed his daughter to a lunatic, Lord Livna is true.
Keep your grudge to yourself, Your Highness, Sir Caleb said. We need this man. His people are housing your army right now.
Lord Livna spoke. "I, and all of Tsaftown, wish to extend our support to you, My Prince, in all matters you may require. It is our fervent wish for you to occupy your father's throne without delay. I pledge my soldiers to aid you in this effort. I welcome you and swear to serve you in any way I can."
Achan bowed and quickly thought up a flowery reply. "You honor me with your loyalty to my father's throne."
"Come, sit beside me and be blessed."
Achan ascended the platform and sat beside Lord Livna, with Sir Gavin to his left, then Sir Caleb, Sir Eagan, and Inko. To Lord Livna's right sat his wife, Lady Revada; his son, Sir Eric; Sir Eric's wife, Lady Viola; and Captain Demry.
A line formed along the wall and up the right side of the dais. A valet stood at Achan's elbow and announced each person or group as they approached. Sir Caleb offered the occasional, private commentary.
Lord Livna and Lady Revada gave Achan a gilded helm and breastplate, etched and embossed with chams and vines.
"One can never have enough armor," Lord Livna said.
Especially armor that once belonged to Moul Rog the Great, Sir Caleb said. His bust is in Mahanaim's hall of greats.
Sir Eric Livna and his wife, Lady Viola, presented Achan with a long hooded hauberk of fine chain. "And my service. I'll ride with you when you depart."
"Captain Roxburg Demry; his wife, Madam Demry; and their daughter, Meneya."
Achan found Captain Demry's muscular build and dark eyes familiar. "I'm honored to pledge my Fighting Fifteen."
Who are excellent fighting men, Sir Caleb added, but have the tendency to drink themselves into hibernation. We met Captain Demry's little brother, Carmack, in Tsaftown, who used to be among the Fifteen. Apparently, he's been replaced.
Achan took in the strapping dark-haired man, recalled Carmack's grip on his throat, and was thankful the Demrys couldn't bloodvoice. What might Carmack have told his brother of Achan's blunder with Lady Tara?
"And this dagger." Meneya held out a black leather sheath with a carved ivory handle that resembled a leaping cham.
"My brother is a smith," Madam Demry said. "We thought this would fit you."
Achan gripped the handle and pulled the gleaming blade from the sheath. It was two hands long with a single raised rib that stretched along the double-edged blade to a sharp point.
His own knife, not on loan like Eagan's Elk. "Thank you."
The valet's voice sent the Demrys on their way. "Lady Merris, mother to Lord Livna."
And mother to Lord Gershom, the instigator of Lady Tara's unfortunate union.
The old woman cracked a wrinkled smile and curtsied. "I have several unwed granddaughters who would make suitable queens. I give you my blessing for any of them."
Can I tell her I'd chosen the one granddaughter she's forsaken?
Best to hold your tongue, Your Highness.
So Achan forced a smile. "I'm honored, Madam."
"Captain Freddel Wenk, his wife, Lady Wenk, his son Derby, and his daughters Julianna and Moriah." Captain Wenk offered his service, then hurried his daughters along as if he feared Achan might ruin them as Esek was known to do.
Achan received gifts of horses, food, ale, clothing, tents, and armor for his men.
"Master Webb Ricks and his son Matthias."
The man bowed. "I'm the local netmaker. My eldest son'll replace me someday. I've two other sons, five daughters, and little Matthias, here. He's a good boy, but took a bad frost to his hands. He can use 'em fine, just not for tying knots. I can barely feed my family, let alone pay for Matthias to apprentice in another trade. I'd like to give him to you, Your Highness."
Nine children. The dirty-faced tot was no more than seven. He had a thatch of blond hair over big brown eyes. Achan swallowed hard. "Y-You're giving me your son?"