Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [307]
They wanted to hear the story, of course. I told it in such a way as would satisfy them. The long, arduous quest. Berlik's penitent end, his head bowed for the sword. Blood on the snow. I didn't tell them I had fallen to my knees and wept.
By the time I'd finished, a message had come from the great hall. Our arrival had been noted. Adelmar of the Frisii summoned three of us to audience in the morning; Phèdre, Joscelin, and me.
"What do you think?" I asked Phèdre.
She had been quiet for most of the evening; all of them had, letting Alba's concerns take precedence. "I think we don't have a great deal of choice," she said. "Adelmar may be angry at the trick we played him, but I don't think he's fool enough to make an issue of it. He's an ambitious man, and we at least managed to pass through Skaldia without reprisal. And you've done naught but follow his suggestion." Phèdre rose, stooping to kiss my brow. "I think we'll find out on the morrow, so we might as well get a good night's sleep.”
She was right, of course.
After our sojourn with Skovik and his men, it was still a great luxury to fill our bellies with hot food, bathe with warm water, and sink onto a straw pallet instead of sleeping in the bottom of a boat, covered with canvas. I slept without dreaming, and on the morrow, we presented ourselves at the great hall.
It was all very, very different from my first experience there. For one thing, there were no pilgrims awaiting audience. I daresay the Habiru had sense enough to wait until spring to travel through Skaldia. For another, the petty official who had made us wait before bowed obsequiously and ushered us immediately into Adelmar's presence.
He wasn't alone.
As before, Adelmar received us in his study. This time, it had been tidied. There were chairs set forth around a round table, and a jug and wine cups set on it. The couple with him rose as we entered. He was a portly, prosperous-looking fellow; fair-skinned like the Skaldi, but with dark hair caught back at the nape of his neck with gilded clasp, and a neatly trimmed beard. His wife was a plain woman of middle years, unprepossessing, but there was a gentle shrewdness to her face. Both of them wore expensive, well-made attire. To my eye, it looked more fitting to wealthy merchants in Tiberium than travellers in Skaldia.
"Prince Imriel de la Courcel," Adelmar said smoothly in Caerdicci. "We are pleased to see you well." He wagged his forefinger at Phèdre and Joscelin. "Your ladyship, my lord, I fear you have played me a naughty trick. And yet I will forgive you, since no harm came of it.”
"I'm sorry, my lord Adelmar," Phèdre apologized. "The matter was urgent.”
Joscelin merely shrugged.
"So I perceive, now." Adelmar smiled. "You were a mother bereft and fearful. 'Tis my fault I did not recognize it as such, and not a threat to Skaldia. You must understand, your reputation precedes you.”
Phèdre raised her brows. "Oh?”
"Oh, indeed." He made a gesture of dismissal. " 'Tis of no mind. Please, meet my guests; Ditmarus of the Manni, and his wife Ermegart. Over the course of several long winter nights, they have heard your strange tale, and were anxious to meet you.”
We exchanged greetings. I glanced down at Ditmarus' hand when he clasped mine. He wore rings on every finger. On his middle finger, there was a signet ring. It bore the impress of a lamp. It was a familiar image.
"I see," I said slowly. "Well met, my lord.”
Ditmarus' grip tightened briefly. "Among the Manni, we seek to accomplish much the same as Adelmar seeks here for the sake of Skaldia." His Caerdicci was polished and impeccable. He gave me a bland smile. "Trade and prosperity. So much better than war, don't you think?”
"Of course," I said politely.
Phèdre tilted her head. "Do the Manni seek trade with the Frisii? I would not have thought the trade routes made it easy. Your lands lie to the south and share a border with Caerdicca Unitas, is it not so?”
"Oh, yes." Ditmarus turned his bland smile on her. "Still, Skaldia is Skaldia.”
"We heard reports of the