The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [102]
“Ta muut.” Haruuc stood straight. “I hope that the sons of Atiin Noor will learn responsibility and honor from House Deneith.”
The compound of House Orien was a busy place not far from the bridge that crossed the Ghaal River. Within its walls, the stink of Rhukaan Draal was replaced by the more familiar, if no less pungent, smells of horses and sometimes tribex, the muscular three-horned antelope creatures that were the common beasts of burden in Darguun. Most of the workers were humans, and for a moment it sounded strange, as it had on Vounn’s last visit, to hear her own language again.
While Aruget waited in the compound’s courtyard, Vounn went directly to the courier office and demanded pen, ink, and paper from the young attendant. The girl was well-trained—she produced what was required without hesitation and even set out an envelope and sealing wax. Vounn quickly wrote a second note to the patriarch of Deneith with Haruuc’s request and her own suspicions, sealed it into the envelope, then bound both her letters together with string and sealed the knot on that as well. When she was done, she returned to the attendant. “I need to see Viceroy Pater.”
The attendant looked surprised. “He is at table.”
“Tell him that Vounn d’Deneith is here on business for her House.”
The girl pulled on a bell cord. A servant emerged from a door at the back of the office, and she whispered to him. He vanished through the door, then reappeared more quickly than Vounn might have expected with an invitation for her to follow him.
The rooms beyond the door were as fine as any in a mansion, though the smell of horses still lingered on the air. The servant left Vounn in a comfortable parlor, and a few moments later a broad-shouldered man running to fat as he advanced into his middle years appeared, still wiping soup from his beard. A napkin protected the snowy front of his shirt and he removed it as he walked. Vounn rose to greet him. “Viceroy Pater.”
“Lady Seneschal Vounn, envoy of House Deneith to Lhesh Haruuc.” Pater d’Orien gave her a sour look. “Nice bit of work for Deneith that is. Cheek by jowl to the lhesh.”
Vounn smiled at him. “It’s wonderful to see you again as well, Lord Pater. We spoke at the feast Haruuc held shortly after I arrived.”
“Aye, I remember. Do you intend to make a habit of interrupting my eating?”
“Not if I can help it. I’m here on urgent business for Deneith.” She held out the bundled letters. “These need to go to Karrlakton.”
Pater looked at the letters as if she’d scooped up a handful of manure from the compound’s horses. “You can put them in at the courier office.”
“These need special attention. They’re going to Baron Breven. They must be in Karrlakton tonight.” She smiled. “And I happen to know you can get them there.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Khyber’s codpiece. You know something. What’s happening?”
“Nothing that you haven’t guessed at,” Vounn told him, shaking her head. “The urgency is a personal matter for Breven.”
“Tomorrow morning, then?” Pater asked.
“Tonight.”
“The service will cost you.”
“Breven’s secretary will pay the fee.”
Pater groaned and took the bundle. “Kol Korran wills it. Baron Breven will have these tonight. Good evening, Lady Vounn. Someone will show you out.” He tugged on a bell cord and started to walk away.
Vounn cleared her throat, and he looked back. “Now,” she said.
“What?” he choked. She could have taken an axe to his head and he wouldn’t have looked as surprised. “You go too far, Deneith! Let me finish eating at least!”
Vounn crossed her arms. “The letters go now,” she said. “Did I not make it clear these are going to the patriarch of Deneith on an urgent personal matter?”
Pater’s face turned red, and he looked on the verge of shoving her out the door. Vounn let him boil a moment longer, then added, “Pater, have you ever heard of Karrnathi vedbread? It’s a crusty loaf baked with sharp ved cheese. It’s best when it’s served right out of the oven and smeared with onion butter.” She paused to let the idea of the delicacy sink