Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [178]
Kerowyn continued to gnaw her lower lip. “I like it, and I don’t like it at all,” she said finally. “I don’t like it, because it puts you in so much danger, Karal. I like it, because it has a good chance of winkling out our agent. I wouldn’t ask it of you, but if you are volunteering—”
:As am I,: Altra said, for Karal’s benefit alone. :You were right in thinking that I can roam the corridors with you and protect you. I shall do better this time.:
“I am,” Karal said firmly. “What is more, I am ready now.”
“Well I’m not—or rather, my men aren’t.” Kerowyn reached over and patted his knee. “Give me a chance to get set up, say, after dinner. Don’t come to formal dinner; that will make it look as if there might be trouble with the Alliance. Then come on over and roam to your heart’s content. Among other things, you can reassure some of our own people that things haven’t deteriorated to the point of war quite yet.”
Karal sat back and let them discuss the weapon itself; they were mages, he was not, and what they had found did not mean a great deal to him. At least he could do something now, though. That helped, a little.
Only a little, but it was a beginning.
In the evenings, after formal dinner, Ulrich had often strolled in the gardens with the rest of the courtiers. During inclement weather, the same leisurely strolls took place in the hallways and the small informal audience chambers. The weather was barely warm enough for both to be in use, so Karal resigned himself to a long evening with a great deal of walking.
Most of the Valdemarans did not seem to know quite how to treat him; he had been the insignificant secretary, and now he was the only Karsite representative at Court, and he had dressed to reflect that rise in position, though the velvets were too warm for the indoor venue and not warm enough for the gardens. Most of the courtiers eventually opted for brief and uncomfortable expressions of regret and condolence, approaching him, making graceful but painful short speeches, and scuttling away again.
For the first few marks, no one even mentioned the fate of the Alliance, and as Karal alternately sweated and shivered, he began to wonder if this had been a fool’s errand.
The first person who did was the Seneschal, a situation so absurd that Karal almost burst into hysterical laughter. The only ones that were privy to Karal’s little ruse were the mages; Prince Daren had decided that it would be better not to let any of the Councillors in on the subterfuge, on the grounds that they were very bad actors, and would probably give the whole thing away. The Seneschal was pathetically transparent in his attempts to divine Solaris’ position from Karal’s attitude, and to keep up the illusion that Solaris was still undecided, Karal was forced to be distinctly cool to the poor man. It took all of Karal’s ability to keep from revealing the whole trick with his reaction to the poor fellow’s disappointment in learning nothing.
He eliminated the next few “fishers” on grounds that they were not likely to have a pretext that would let them move in and out of private rooms at will. Then came another long, dry spell; his sober face and black robes seemed to put people off, making their expressions of sympathy hurried and nervous.
He resigned himself to a fruitless, boring evening.
Ah, well, at least I tried—
“Master Secretary?” said a squeaky voice at his elbow.
He turned, and had to think long and hard before he could identify the fellow who had greeted him. He was utterly nondescript to begin with, and had the demeanor and apparently the personality of a mole—
“—ah, my condolences,