Sword Catcher (Sword Catcher, #1)

Kel had begun to develop a headache as he tried to follow both conversations; fortunately one of the cleverly hidden doors in the walls, usually concealed by a tapestry, opened, and out came a line of servants bearing pitchers of iced wine and sorbet, and silver platters of quince, cheese, and savory pastries.

The iced wine was rose-colored and tasted faintly of cherries. The chatter at the head of the table seemed to have at last turned to the opening of a direct road between Favár and Castellane. It would facilitate trade, Conor said, and naturally it would also pass through Sarthe. Lilibet suggested the three countries share the cost of building the road. Sena Anessa seemed interested. Ambassador Sarany continued to stare at Conor. Every once in a while her pink tongue would emerge from her narrow mouth and flick swiftly into her goblet, curling up a tiny swallow of wine.

“In Sarthe, we, too, believe that travel increases wisdom,” said Sena Anessa, smiling beatifically. “I just journeyed with our own Princess Aimada to the Court of Geumjoseon in Daeseong. Such a charming place. Their customs are so different from ours, but so fascinating.”

“Are they not preparing for a royal wedding now?” inquired Lilibet. “I believe I had heard as much.”

“Indeed,” said Anessa. “Crown Prince Han, the King’s second son, is soon to be wed.”

Sarany wrinkled her forehead. “Is this the heir?”

“For now, yes,” said Conor. “If I recall, succession in Geumjoseon is not determined by age. The King selects the favorite of his children and names them heir.”

“It does lead to a great deal of jostling,” said Anessa. “But rather exciting. Han is marrying into the noble Kang family, which may displease his father. They are quite wealthy, but scandalous.”

“Ah, yes,” said Lilibet. Her dark eyes sparkled. She always enjoyed gossip. “Didn’t a daughter of the Kang family slaughter a dozen or so of another noble House? The Nams, I believe?”

“It is all a bit of a fairy tale,” said Anessa. “It is said that the Nam family was already gathered for a funeral when the Kang girl climbed over their garden wall and murdered the lot of them. After which, she vanished in a black carriage—some say it was drawn by two dozen flying black swans. I am sure some of the story is true, but clearly not all of it. Anyway, Prince Han seems not to mind.”

“What’s a little bloodbath between friends?” Conor said. He was playing with the crystal stem of his goblet, but as far as Kel had noticed, he had not been drinking much. “Myself, I applaud the bravery of the young Prince of Geumjoseon. I would be afraid to marry into a family of murderers, lest I be next.”

Ambassador Sarany smiled, though it was less a smile than a stretching of lips. “Getting married is always an act of bravery and faith. Especially when it represents the merging of two great powers.”

Sena Anessa cleared her throat, clearly irritated. “My dear Queen Lilibet,” she said, “where is Mayesh Bensimon? I always enjoy his sage advice.”

Before Lilibet could speak, Sarany tapped her fork sharply against her plate. “I had nearly forgotten,” she said, “that you have an Ashkari adviser to the throne, do you not?”

“Indeed,” said Conor, “in the tradition of Macrinus.”

Sarany’s lip curled. “I noticed you have a very active Sault. There are so very many Ashkar in the streets here. Don’t you find they spread criminality and disease?”

There was a blank silence; even Lilibet, normally poised, looked stunned.

Conor’s eyes had begun to glitter dangerously. “On the contrary,” he said. “The Ashkar are skilled healers who have saved many Castellani lives, and they are among our more Law-abiding subjects. Of the few hundred criminals in the Tully, not one of them is Ashkar.”

“You are young and na?ve, Ur-K?rul Aurelian,” said Sarany coolly. (Even with his limited Malgasi, Kel recognized the word for “Prince.”) “You are fond of Bensimon—or you believe you are, at least. The Ashkar exert a sort of pull, a power that draws you to them. It is part of their evil.”

“Evil?” The word broke from Kel; he knew better than to speak out, yet he could not help himself. “That seems a severe term. They are, after all, only people who pray to a different sort of God.”

“And practice gematry.” Sarany’s gaze swept over Kel and dismissed him. “In Malgasi, we believe all magic is sin. We have made our lands Aszkarivan—free of Ashkar. In doing so, we ushered in a new phase of prosperity for our people.”

“Was that because they enriched themselves with gold stolen from the Ashkar who had fled?” Conor said, and now his eyes were glittering in a truly dangerous way.

Kel could not help but remember the Dial Chamber meeting where Mayesh had said calmly that there were no Ashkar in Malgasi. No one had paused to ask the Counselor why, he realized. No one had thought about it; no one had seen it as important.

Sarany was looking at Conor, her nostrils flared. Kel could feel the energy in the room changing. It had spiked upward, from tension to anger. He wondered if he should rise and go to Conor, but at that moment, to his surprise, King Markus strode into the Shining Gallery.

With him was Fausten. Neither had dressed for the dinner, precisely, though the King wore a heavy velvet cloak over his usual plain tunic and trousers. It was clasped at the throat with a thick gold chain from which hung an elaborately carved pendant ruby. Fausten, a step behind the King, wore his astronomer’s cloak of silk and glass. Kel could not help staring at the little man; the sight of him made Kel feel sick with rage, and the fact that he ignored Kel completely, his gaze sliding over him as if he were not there, did not help.

Markus was stony, bland, and calm as he approached the table and took his seat at the head. Lillibet was staring at him, lips parted in surprise; Conor was expressionless, but his hand was clenched around the stem of his wine goblet.

As Fausten positioned himself behind the King’s chair, Kel noted there was something very different about his demeanor. Where he was usually cringing and sycophantic, now he seemed eager, eyes bright and darting. He seemed to be vibrating with excitement as he bowed in the direction of Ambassador Sarany, greeting her in Malgasi:

“Gy?nora, pi fendak hi líta.”

It was a breach of etiquette for Fausten to speak before the King did; Sena Anessa looked taken aback, but Sarany only smiled a thin smile and turned to the King. “I am so glad, K?rol Markus,” she said, “that we have the favor of your presence.”

Markus? Kel shot Conor a look; Conor only shrugged.

The King inclined his head. “I know my duty,” he said, with the tone of a man who was going to his own execution, and knew it, and knew he must not falter on the road to the gallows.

Very strange.

Ambassador Sarany did not reply, but stared at the King openly with a deeply peculiar expression. There was an edge in it, as of hunger—and something else as well. A sort of longing, almost desperate. Lilibet was watching her over the rim of her wineglass, her expression a mixture of vexation and disbelief.