Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [167]
“They brought my things,” the king said. “If I proved worthy. You know, the only thing wrong with your kingdom, if you will forgive me, is the lack of proper baths. Those metal tubs you have in your palace—pfaugh. We have pools, with heated water, heated from underneath, hot channels. And the sweat-house, for cleansing from evil humors of the body. Your people should learn them from us.”
“Perhaps we should,” Kieri said. “And will, if time is given us.”
“Elis can teach you,” the king said. “If you learn about proper baths, perhaps you will know we are not merely wild men of the north running around naked in the cold.” He gave Kieri a look that made it clear he’d noticed the shutter opening and closing.
Iolin, this morning back in his own clothes and sitting at his father’s side, had a worn look, Kieri thought. If his father and the other Pargunese men had been after him all night … well, boys learned, or they didn’t make men. Elis sat with the Knight-Commander, eating porridge so demurely Kieri wondered what she was up to. The Pargunese guards, at the other table, were eating like any experienced soldiers when hot food was available and a cold day of duty waited outside. Kieri sensed no real hostility there, and much less anxiety than the night before.
Before the glass turned again, they were ready to leave. The king grinned at Kieri and opened his arms. Kieri and the king embraced, pounding each others’ backs.
“You saved me twice,” the king said. “I will not forget that. If ever we must meet blade to blade, I will put nothing on mine but will.”
“And I,” Kieri said.
He and Elis and the Knight-Commander went with the Pargunese down to the landing stage. The Pargunese carried the wrapped body of the traitor, now frozen stiff. The boat they had come in was gone. “Back to Pargun,” one of the lords said. “It is our own; we would not risk it.” He took off his cloak and waved it three times. Across the river another wave—something that flashed. Kieri hoped it was not Einar’s sword. A boat set out, skimming swiftly in the wind. When it tied up to the landing stage, Kieri saw long oars in it and seats for rowers. The two men crewing it lowered the sail. The guards lowered the traitor’s body in, then the lords climbed down. The king embraced Elis and whispered something in her ear that made her blush; Iolin also hugged her, and then the king bowed to Kieri, who bowed in return. He and his son climbed down, and at the king’s command everyone but the steersman took an oar—even the king. To Kieri’s amazement, they all rowed—in perfect cadence called in the steersman’s voice—out into the windswept river and the boat returned to Pargun almost as fast as it had come.
“Well,” the Knight-Commander said. “That was … not at all what I expected.”
“What we thought we knew was wrong,” Kieri said. “Start to finish, the man surprised me again and again. I hope he lives and we have no invasion, but Elis—” He looked at her. “—I have been wrong about Pargun for a long time. You must help me learn.”
“Of course, Sir King, though I have much to learn myself. Not only of your kingdom but—but everything a Knight of Falk must know.” She glanced at the Knight-Commander.
Kieri spent the rest of that day conferring with the Halveric commander, the town mayor, and representatives of the rangers and Royal Archers who had ridden in to meet him. The town had records of past floods, freezes, and thaws in its archives; Kieri suspected that the Pargunese would rather attack over the ice, but after seeing the speed with which they could row across into the wind, he wasn’t sure. To make up for the loss of business the night before, Kieri had arranged to hold a public reception in the same inn. He shook innumerable hands, accepted presents—more practical than had shown up at his coronation, for the local craft specialty