Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [166]
“We need to clean this room, and let the landlord finish clearing the table,” Kieri said. “There is yet work to do; what we came for is not accomplished. I would see swords put aside and the floor cleaned.”
By the time the body was gone, and the mess on the floor had been cleaned away, Kieri’s headache had eased. With the door closed once more, the room warmed. Outside the storm beat at the town; wind shook the door and shutters in great gusts, and the chimney whistled and moaned. The landlord’s servants having cleared the table—for a wonder, nothing had broken—the group settled around it once more. Kieri let the Pargunese king do most of the talking, speaking only when the king turned to him for confirmation.
The night dragged on. Twice the landlord came to ask if they needed anything, and finally Kieri told him to go on to bed. It was a full glass after that when the king finally got the Pargunese lords to agree that Elis was the only possible—and the best—envoy they could have to Lyonya, and the best chance of peace.
“Not that we fear war,” one of them said, eyeing Kieri. “For the Lady promised us undying fire that would surely burn the forest to the roots and open the land for grain, if we had the courage to defend the king’s honor.”
“Undying fire?” Kieri suppressed another yawn and leaned forward.
“Yes,” the lord said, turning to him. “The Lady, the Weaver, told us we would have with us scathefire that could not be quenched by anything, not even by the sea. Kindled from the bones of ancient dragons, she said.”
“You know what the Earthfolk said about that, Knof,” the other lord said. “We would be cursed forever if we set spade to that hill. They would withdraw their gift that they had long regretted.”
“Yes, but She—”
“Einar told us what She said. He says She talks to him more than to the king.”
“And Einar’s a traitor, if the king’s right. I understand that, Harn. But still—” The man looked at Kieri. “If we do want peace, it is not because we fear you, or fear war. You have hideous powers, that is clear, but so did those who drove us from our homelands.” He spat, but politely, away from Kieri, toward the fire. “If you healed our king to impress us, know that I will not bend the knee to you without my king’s orders.”
They were prickly and proud as young boys in training, and yet, Kieri knew, they could not be treated as boys, not these men of the Pargunese king’s Council. “I do not doubt your courage or your will,” he said to them. Their wisdom, yes, but not their courage. “I do not want your submission; I do not want Pargun. But I do want my own land and people to flourish.”
“Well.” Suspicion in the tone, but agreement, too. “Well, I am not so fond of fighting I must pick quarrels out of the air. It will be as our king wishes.”
As long as he was king. Kieri sent a prayer into the snow-blown night that this might be, and they sit someday eating and drinking again with no death at the end of it.
“To bed, then,” the king said, slapping his knees. “We have far to go tomorrow, if we can even get across the river.” Then he looked at Kieri and raised his brows.
“Upstairs or down, as it suits you,” Kieri said. “I am going up.” Despite the abundance of rooms, the Pargunese crowded into one on the ground floor; Kieri’s Squires had brought his own bedding along, so he slid into familiar rose-scented sheets and was asleep at once. Outside his door, a King’s Squire stood, and another at the head of the stairs.
In the morning, clouds and snow had blown past, and a pale blue sky scoured by wind opened over them. Kieri heard a noise in the stableyard below and pushed open a shutter, peering out to see the Pargunese king, stark naked, washing himself from a bucket of steaming water; two Pargunese lords, just as bare, were doing the same. Did they never stop proving how hardy they were? When the king had finished, he gave a shout and ran, bare as he was, around the yard, and the other two ran after him, all laughing like boys. Kieri eased the shutter closed, and shook his head.
He dressed and