The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [150]
"I see the Delcampers stint not," Tshamarra remarked, surveying the boat that awaited below.
"The best is always cheaper in the long run," Flaeros replied, as they came out onto the broad sweep of the docks, and the guards there lifted their weapons in salute and stepped back.
The voyagers, all in Delcamper livery, were drawn up to greet the king: a dozen servants, with the swordcaptain of their travel escort of six house warriors at their head. He saluted Flaeros, bowed to King Castlecloaks, and then smoothly stood aside before anyone could speak, revealing who'd been standing behind him: an old, small woman leaning on a silver-handled cane.
"Your Majesty," Flaeros said with a broad smile, "may I present again to you the Lady of Chambers who has served so many of my family so well, for far more years than I've been alive-and is more truly noble than any dozen Delcampers: the Lady Natha Orele."
The king grinned and extended his hand in time to stop the aged Lady of Chambers from trying to kneel to him. "No, please-no one should kneel to me unless I'm passing sentence on them," he said firmly. "Flaeros, be informal, hey?"
The bard grinned and joyfully swept the old woman into an embrace. "Am I mortifying you enough, Orele?" he asked, when he'd finished kissing her.
"Tolerably, Lord," was the dry reply-which so delighted Raulin Castiecloaks that he took a turn at embracing a Lady of Chambers.
"Now that was foolish," she chided him. "I could be a murderous priestess of the Serpent!"
Raulin grinned. "Well, are you?"
"Not this morning, dear," she said gently. "But let us all start this formidable climb, the sooner to have something to drink, hey? I'll be putting us to work right briskly, by the look of you two. Has the palace run short of servants, or is there some crazed current fashion for sleeping in your armor?"
As the king chuckled and stepped back to offer her his arm, the shimmering of air that surrounded him fell upon her for a second time, and she turned and looked straight at the Overduke Blackgult, who stood watchfully to one side, one hand on his sword-hilt and the other on his Dwaer-Stone.
"Well, who's this?" she asked quietly, peering.
"Overduke Ezendor Blackgult," Flaeros said helpfully. "He used to be Regent of Aglirta-and is still famous throughout Asmarand as the Golden Griffon. You've met before, remember?"
"Ah, yes," Lady Orele murmured, her gaze locked with Blackgult's. They measured each other in wary silence for a long moment, unmoving, and then the overduke bowed his head gravely and turned away.
"There is one who took ship with us in Sirlptar," the swordcaptain murmured, "who's not of Ragalar. A warrior of Aglirta sworn to the King's service, I believe, one Tesmer by name."
Raulin whirled around to peer at the dock. "Tesmer? Where is he?"
"Still on the barge," Blackgult said, pointing. "Wounded, by the looks of him."
The king frowned. "Flaeros, please take the Lady Orele to the rooms prepared for her, with the rest of your household, who are all most royally welcome. We must meet Tesmer without delay."
If Blackgult had not thrust out a firm hand to bar his way, Raulin would have been on the barge in the next instant. Greatsarn gave the king a reproachful look as the Golden Griffon and two of the guards went onto the barge instead, raised the trusted king's warrior from the chair he'd been seated in, and brought him onto the dock.
Tesmer was pale, and bore enough of his clothing torn up and tied in strips around one of his legs to make it thrice the thickness of the other, but he struggled to kneel until Blackgult firmly sat him down on a dock bench and held him there. Raulin sat beside him and said, "None of that nonsense. How fare you? What befell?"
"A sword slash only, Your Majesty," was the grim reply. "Light blood-spill, given where I've been and what I've seen." He glanced up at the ring of faces behind the king, guards and two sorceresses, and hesitated.
"I have no secrets from any here," Raulin said