The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [39]
"Y-yes," Lord Stornbridge's smile was sickly as he saw reports of arrow volleys and poisoned wine.
Evidently the seneschal had more swiftly entertained similar thoughts. Seeing the tersept struggling for words, he asked, "Has the King yet shared any views on what he sees for Aglirta in the seasons ahead? We're all weary of warring barons, plundering mercenaries, and priestly strife, but what road can Castlecloaks-pray pardon, King Castlecloaks-see to take us out of all that?"
At that moment, servants came through the curtains behind the tersept bearing steaming platters of roast boar, garnished with medallions of symraquess-the tart and juicy orange fruit so plentiful in far Sarinda, but rarely seen north of Elgardi.
"We're moving first," Lady Silvertree replied crisply, breaking the custom of not talking politics in front of servants, "to drive out, capture, or come to strict and exacting terms with all wizards of power in the Vale. Any desiring to dwell in Aglirta must work closely with the crown-and not stand behind, or hire themselves out to, any warlord hungry for the throne."
"All wizards of power?" the lornsar echoed derisively.
"All, Lord Ryethrel," Embra said firmly, giving him a look like a swordthrust. "Myself included." A brief boiling of the air around them might have just been a warning of the magic she commanded-or a spell seeking magics and poisons lurking on the platters. Servants were bringing bowls of mushrooms swimming in spiced golden sauce, now, and breads baked in fanciful shapes, but Embra gave them no visible attention. More important to her companions, her foot sought none of theirs under the table.
"For the same reasons," Blackgult added, "we work against Serpent-priests who seek to instruct barons and tersepts. The King desires all who hold titles at his pleasure to stand alone, making their own decisions so long as they obey his royal decrees-not follow the whispers of those known to oppose the rightful rule of Flowfoam."
The lornsar nodded as if satisfied, but the seneschal scowled and asked, "And if one who happens to worship the Serpent presents us a fair idea or sound proposal?"
"Do as the King, his barons and tersepts, and yes, even overdukes always do," Craer spoke up. "Consider why he offers his scheme. What true gain does it offer you? And what real benefit, to him? If you accept or adopt it, what else has he moved you toward, and why?"
"There may not be any crime in a particular idea or counsel," Tshamarra said quietly, "whether it comes from Snake-lover, fell mage, or rapacious Sirl trader. There is a crime, now, in not informing royal messengers and heralds of such entreaties made to you. Normal private business dealings in the Vale aren't our affair-but dealings with all wizards, clergy, and oudanders, and all matters of acquiring magic, weapons, armor, and hireswords, are.
The tersept and his seneschal blinked, but the Coinmaster shook a narrow scroll from his sleeve and made a swift note on it, murmuring, "That seems prudent enough."
The seneschal shot Eirevaur a look that had drawn daggers in it, but the handsome young man merely sprinkled a pinch of powder onto his ink to "set" it, nodded politely and expressionlessly to Urbrindur, and turned his attention again to the Lady Talasorn.
"I understand," Lord Stornbridge said gently to Tshamarra, his tone very careful not to reproach or deride, "that you are both a sorceress and an outlander. How is it that the King trusts you?"
The seneschal nodded in satisfaction at this thrust-and Champion Pheldane leaned forward, transformed in an instant from a coldly watchful statue to a hungry hound straining eagerly on its leash.
"He has his good reasons," the Lady Talasorn replied mildly. "As, I'm sure, you have to trust those who serve you. We all have our own tests for loyalty, do we not?"
Seneschal Urbrindur raised his goblet toward