Glasswrights' Journeyman Page 11

  “The princess?” Shalindor asked, as if in disbelief, but then he seemed to remember himself. “My lady is not usually so forward with … strangers,” he said at last, shrugging as if he were apologizing.

  “She was quite polite,” Hal assured the man. “She offered to take my companions to their apartments, so that they could refresh themselves from our journey.”

  Shalindor seemed to recover, although he still shook his head in surprise. “I trust she’ll see to their comfort, then. As I should see to yours.” The chamberlain bowed again and gestured toward a door, his bony fingers pointing out a different passage than the one where Berylina had disappeared with Rani and Mair. “My lords?”

  Hal nodded congenially and ducked through the doorway with Farsobalinti, following the chamberlain’s straight, stiff back.

  * * *

  Farso managed a smile as he adjusted Hal’s leather glove. “Are you ready, then, Sire?”

  “Farso, this is hardly what I expected to be doing on my first day in Liantine.”

  Hal looked down at his riding leathers, grateful now that he had followed his former squire’s suggestion back in Morenia and had his gear carted across the ocean. Back in Moren, it had seemed ridiculous to pack so much – winter clothes and summer, hunting clothes and ermine-lined capes. All along, Farso had ignored his protests, merely assuring him that one of the marks of kingship was always seeming prepared. Rani had added her agreement – it was important to impress Liantine. If King Teheboth ever suspected the extent of Morenia’s need, she reminded him, the princess’s dowry would shrink to nothing.

  “King Teheboth only intends to honor you, Your Majesty, by including you in this custom.”

  “I understand that. It’s just that it’s so early in the year. …”

  “You won’t actually find a Horned Hind, Sire.” Farso laughed at the ridiculous image. “No females to suffer for today’s sport, no fawns to leave orphaned. The king will certainly slay a stag, and call it by another name.” Farso grinned and mimed a fatal thrust.

  “You’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?”

  The young knight shrugged, a smile making his pale eyes sunny. “It’s good to ride, Sire. It’s good to be out in the fresh air and to feel the horseflesh between your thighs. The hounds baying, the smell of the grass caught underfoot. … And it’s good to eat fresh venison at the end of the day.”

  Hal knew that most of his nobles felt the same. Nevertheless, his sympathy usually ran with the deer. Not, perhaps, when a joint was roasting over the fire, but during the long chase, with the hounds belling, and dozens of men plotting and planning, holding their iron-tipped spears. …

  Foolishness. If Hal tried to explain his thoughts, Farso would think he was even odder than he was. Hal settled for clapping his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let us go, then. We wouldn’t want to keep our host waiting, not when he’s already lost his entire morning, riding back for us.”

  Nevertheless, the king of all Liantine was pacing impatiently in his cobbled courtyard, attended by a handful of restless nobles. King Teheboth Thunderspear was a man large enough to bear his family name with pride. He stood two handspans taller than Hal, and his chest stretched the green-painted leather that wrapped around it, rolls of fat covering hard muscle. The king’s gloves were like sausage casings, barely managing to contain his fingers, and his legs strained at their trews. Teheboth wore his beard in the eastern style, plaited into a long braid down his chin, and the hair atop his head was long and wiry, chestnut shot through with gold and silver.

  Hal could not keep from glancing about, from looking for the mammoth horse that could bear Teheboth into the hunt. He was not disappointed – the king of Liantine rode a sturdy battle destrier, a stallion that looked as if it were more fit for weeks of warfare than for a day of hunting.

  Beside the battle mount stood a pair of strong riding horses – a roan gelding that tossed its head in the late morning sun and a grey-flecked mare. Hal was enough of a horseman to recognize good beasts when he saw them – these animals would easily rank among the best in all of Morenia.

  Hal’s admiration was cut short by King Teheboth’s exclamation. “My lord! You must excuse our absence when you arrived!” The man’s voice was as full as his body, and his greeting echoed off the stone walls of the courtyard. “We are pleased that you will join us! It was fortunate that our riders were able to recall us before we had ridden too far away.”

  “My lord,” Hal smiled, feigning enthusiasm. Hunting was a noble pastime, he reminded himself, and he had spent plenty of long, satisfying afternoons in the Morenian woods. Even if he now longed for a hot bath and clean clothes, for a soft pillow and a long rest after the difficult sea crossing. …

  Longings were not meant for kings.

  Before Hal could muster further enthusiasm, he saw Rani and Mair step forward from the shadows of Teheboth’s palace. Both of the women wore riding clothes, and Rani had plaited her long blonde hair into a single braid. King Teheboth glanced at the pair, at first dismissing them, but then giving them his full attention as he realized that they were part of Hal’s entourage.

  “My lady.” King Teheboth acknowledged first Rani, then Mair. Hal watched Rani drop a simple curtsey, and Mair mimic the same. The Liantine king scarcely acknowledged the women, saying, “We’ll bring back venison for tonight’s feast!”

  “We look forward to riding with you, my lord.” Hal recognized the dangerous sweetness in Rani’s tone, and he caught her looking about the courtyard for a mount that she could claim as her own.

  “You should stay here, Lady Rani,” Hal said. “Help our people settle in after our long journey. We’ve kept our host long enough, making him ride back to retrieve us. We scarcely have time to find mounts for you, to locate appropriate gear.” Hal returned his attention to Teheboth. “The Thousand Gods are smiling upon us, that we were able to reach you before you had ridden too far afield. May Doan look kindly upon our hunt.”

  Teheboth’s bushy eyebrows met in a scowl, and his plaited beard jutted forward in disagreement. “Doan! Your god of the hunt has naught to do with today’s ride!” Hal struggled to mask his look of surprise. “You’re with the Liantines today, King Halaravilli. We look to the Horned Hind, instead of your clutch of gods.”

  Hal knew, of course, that the Thousand Gods were little worshiped in Liantine. He had thought, though, that they still held some sway. Before he could find a diplomatic reply, Rani stepped forward, resting a hand on the roan’s bridle. She addressed her words to Teheboth, inclining her head gracefully. “Lady Mair and I would ride with you as a token of luck, my lord. While we Morenians have lost the tradition of the Spring Hunt, we can admire a king’s quest on behalf of his people. May this be the year that you find the Horned Hind herself, and all the riches at the end of the world.”

  Of course! Hal remembered now. Along with all that nonsense about the Horned Hind holding the world inside her antlers, there were old stories, ancient legends. The hunter who slew the Horned Hind would find a treasure trove, more wealth than man had ever seen.

  “My lady,” King Teheboth bowed from his saddle. “You know our customs well.”

  “Your customs are storied far and wide, my lord. I’ve seen the Spring Hunt captured in stained glass.”

  Hal had only a moment to wonder where the window had been located – perhaps in the ruined guildhall or in one of Rani’s books. The king of Liantine apparently said, “We’ll return tonight, my lady, with meat for our spring table. In the meantime, I’m sure my people will make you and your companion comfortable.”

  “My lord –” Rani began again.

  Hal interrupted, “Lady Rani, you should not waste more time in the courtyard. I’m sure the princess could use your assistance.”

  “The princess –” Rani bristled, but Teheboth broke in before she could deliver her heated retort.

  “My lady, I regret that you cannot join us. The Hind would stand no chance against your determi
nation.” There was no room for further argument, and even Rani inclined her head in submission. “Now that we have returned to our courtyard, though, we must drink another stirrup cup, lest the blessed Hind claim we rode without giving fair warning. My daughter toasted us when first we rode, but she is gone about her duties elsewhere in the castle. Will you do us the honor, Lady Rani?”

  Teheboth inclined his head toward Rani, who was clearly startled by the request. Hal could see her start to craft some excuse, but he managed to catch her eye, conveying an entire argument in one tight shake of his head. Rani swallowed hard but sank into a reluctant curtsey. “I would be most honored, my lord.”

  Servants produced wine and a massive gilded cup, and Rani proffered the symbol first to Teheboth. The king, however, waved her over to Hal, indicating that the guest should be honored before the host. Rani rested a hand on Hal’s stirrup as she raised the cup into his hands. “I would ride with you, Sire.” Her words were scarcely audible.

  “We have no choice in this.”

  “You brought me to bargain for you, and yet you’ll make your first bid alone.”

  “We’re in the merchant’s house, Rani, living by his rules. What would you have me do?”

  “At least hear this. The girl who met us in the Great Hall –”

  “Ho there!” Teheboth cried from across the courtyard. “The Horned Hind waits!”

  Hal took the golden cup from Rani’s fingers, resenting his own flash of gratitude when she relinquished it without further commotion. Of course, she had harsh words about Princess Berylina. Of course she was going to make his courtship as difficult as she possibly could. How had he ever expected otherwise?

  The wine was sweet on his lips, and he swallowed hard, as if cementing a vow. He could face King Teheboth alone. He could turn the day’s ride to his own profit, open the bidding for Berylina and for the return of the Little Army. He did not need Rani by his side constantly.

  Hal returned the goblet with tight-lipped silence, and a flash of anger darkened Rani’s eyes. Without another word, she turned on her hard leather heel and carried the cup to each of the riders. Farso, and then two of King Teheboth’s retainers. She ended with the Liantine king.

  Hal watched Rani set a hand on the giant’s stirrup, watched words form in her throat. She glanced across at Hal, and he could read her intention as clearly as a story in her precious stained glass. Hal shook his head once more, emphatically, like a stern father. He imagined that he could hear Rani suck in a rebellious breath, but she obeyed. She held up the golden goblet, bowing her head as Teheboth said something that made her flush prettily. The king drank deeply, swallowing once, twice, three times, four, and then he handed the empty goblet back to Rani. She bowed her head and retreated to the shadowed corner of the courtyard, Mair trailing like a ghost.

  Hal did not look back as he rode out behind Teheboth Thunderspear.

  For nearly an hour, they galloped across the broad Liantine plain, following the course of the Liant River inland. The delta land was rich, and the road was smooth, despite large rocky outcroppings that appeared to either side. Spring had come out in full force across the land, and Hal’s eyes feasted on more shades of green than he could count. The horses trod on new-sprung wildflowers, little stars of white and pink. The hunters made good time.

  Thinking of Rani’s silent submission, Hal avoided the subject uppermost in his mind – Princess Berylina. Even as he cast about for some safe topic, some appropriate opening discussion, the riders slowed their horses, giving the beasts a chance to rest. A groom rode forward, proffering a tooled leather flask to King Teheboth. The Liantine took the container and offered it to Hal. “Brandywine,” he said. “It will warm your heart.”

  Hal took an appreciative swallow, opening his eyes wide at the streak of heat that flowed through his chest. Teheboth acknowledged the compliment with a toothy grin, and then he drank deeply himself, his broad throat convulsing with swallow after swallow. Only after he had passed a hairy hand across his lips did he return the flask to his servant. As the boy dropped back in the ranks, Hal glanced at his face and was surprised to see a livid scar stretched tight across his cheekbone.

  An Amanthian. A former soldier in the Little Army, whose birth tattoo had been carved away from his face.

  Hal cleared his throat. He’d known that he’d have to address the issue some time, and, frankly, it was the easiest of the topics he’d brought to Liantine. “Are there many of my people serving in your court?”

  “Your people?” A quick twitch in Teheboth’s cheek showed that he understood the question.

  “Amanthians.”

  Teheboth feigned puzzlement for a moment, and then he pretended to untangle Hal’s allusion. “You mean the boy! I’d hardly know he was Amanthian. He seems quite settled into Liantine.”

  “Nevertheless, the Amanthians are easy enough to find.” Hal brushed a hand across his own cheek, indicating a non-existent scar.

  “They serve in Liantine like any of their caste.” Teheboth shrugged.

  Hal resisted the urge to sigh. He wasn’t certain why the Liantine king was pretending to misunderstand, but he knew that it would not be wise to rush matters. Only a fool would directly challenge a king while sitting on that man’s own mount, riding in his own hunt, prior to discussing an infinitely more delicate matter of state.

  Hal prodded delicately, nodding toward the servant with the flask, who had fallen into a group of grooms. “That boy seems to have learned his way about your court well enough. How long has he been in your service?”

  Teheboth laughed, the explosive sound coming from deep in his belly. His braided beard danced as he said, “Do you honestly think I know? Could you tell me when each of your servants came to your court? The boy pours wine at my table, my lord. I’ve never paid him any attention before. And I’m not likely to again, unless it’s to punish him roundly for distracting my guest from the hunt. After all, my lord, that is why you rode out with us, is it not?”

  Hal heard the warning, but he was reluctant to let the matter rest, not now, not knowing how difficult it would be to reopen the discussion if he backed away. “I wonder,” he mused, as if the thought had just come to him. “I wonder what caste he was before they carved the tattoo from his face.”

  “What difference does it make?” Teheboth had turned to stare at Hal.

  “Not much at all.” Hal rode on a for a while, willing to let his words float in the noontime sun. After several peaceful minutes, though, Hal cleared his throat to speak again. “My lord, I’ll be honest with you.” Teheboth raised one eyebrow and reined his horse in, falling back from the rowdy group of hunters. Hal matched the Liantine’s pace until the two men were out of earshot from the others. Hal saw Farso notice, and the former squire started to pull up on his own reins. Hal shook his head, though, waving one hand in an easy gesture. Farso shrugged and caught up with the Liantine escort.

  Hal proffered his open palms as if he bore a gift for Teheboth. “There is no need for us to joust here. You are older and wiser than I, and you know the sweet waste of honeyed words.” Hal reined his borrowed gelding to a complete stop, swallowing a smile at Teheboth’s scarce-masked annoyance. “I must return to my people with news, my lord. I must report to them on the fate of their Little Army.”

  “There is no Little Army in Liantine.”

  “That will not be sufficient. Thousands of children were sent over here. Thousands of boys, and a handful of girls. Their parents still dream of their safe return. What am I to tell my people?”

  “Tell your people that their children were sold at market by their former ruler.”

  “For what coin?”

  Teheboth looked deep in Hal’s eyes, and the older man’s hands clenched his reins as if he would wheel his horse about and ride back toward the Liantine capital. Teheboth was no coward, though. He was not trying to flee Hal’s questions. Rather, the Liantine king was trying to rein in his temper, trying to restrain a very uncivil rage. />
  “My lord Halaravilli, I can assure you that this is not a battle you want to fight – not with all the rest that stands between us.” Teheboth lowered his voice; Hal was forced to lean forward to hear him. “The Amanthian bastard, Sin Hazar, sold his own people. My vassals bought them, clean and clear. The Horned Hind has no ban against slavery. My guilds, my armies, my household, we all needed servants, and Sin Hazar offered us a decent price. I’ll tell you this, my lord. No one person owns a single slave in Liantine. Slaves are owned by groups – by guilds or societies or by armies. Anything else would be inhuman.”

  That made no sense at all, Hal wanted to say. Groups were made of individuals. There was no absolution by saying that a guild owned a person, that an army had made the purchase. With a clarity that startled him, though, Hal suddenly saw how he could turn Teheboth’s prickly stubbornness to his own advantage. In a flash, Hal thought back to lessons he had learned in his nursery, to strategies that he had worked out with his armies of tin soldiers. The pattern was as clear as the ones that Rani Trader crafted in glass. Sometimes one needed to lose, to gain.

  Hal lowered his gaze, picking at the fine tooling on his leather saddle. His shoulders sagged, and he looked up through his lashes, as if he were uncertain of his words, of his arguments. “Please, my lord.” He let a little of his stress melt into his words. “I ask but one thing. Tell me if there is any chance that I can return Amanthian children to their homes. Tell me if I can bring glad tidings to any Amanthian mother, to any family that aches for its missing sons and daughters.”

  Teheboth stared at him for a long moment, as if he were measuring out the weight of capitulation. When he spoke, he did not bother to coat his words with regret. “Those children are long gone, my lord. They have spread through Liantine, traveled to the far corners of my realm.”