‘Keep an eye on Soros tomorrow, Your Grace,’ Wargun advised Emban. ‘He’s a religious hysteric. When he makes his speech, he might just decide to expose us. Soros spends all his time talking to God, and sometimes that unsettles a man’s wits. Is there any possible way we can skip over him during the speeches?’
‘Not legitimately,’ Emban said.
‘We’ll talk with him, Wargun,’ King Obler said. ‘Maybe we can persuade him to be too ill to attend tomorrow’s session.’
‘I’ll make him sick, all right,’ Wargun muttered.
Emban rose to his feet. ‘We all have things to attend to, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘so as they say, let’s get cracking.’
Sparhawk stood up. ‘The Elenian embassy was damaged during the siege, My Queen,’ he said to Ehlana in a neutral tone. ‘May I offer you the somewhat Spartan comfort of the Pandion chapterhouse instead?’
‘You’re cross with me, aren’t you, Sparhawk?’ she asked him.
‘It might be more appropriate if we discussed that in private, My Queen.’
‘Ah,’ she sighed. ‘Well, let’s go ahead and go to your chapterhouse so you can scold me for a while. Then we can move right on into the kissing and making up. That’s the part I’m really interested in. At least you won’t be able to spank me – not with Mirtai standing guard over me. Have you ever met Mirtai, by the way?’
‘No, My Queen.’ Sparhawk looked at the silent Tamul woman who stood behind Ehlana’s chair. Mirtai’s skin had a peculiarly exotic bronze tinge to it, and her braided hair was a glossy black. In a woman of normal size, her features would have been considered beautiful, and her dark eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, ravishing. Mirtai, however, was not of normal size. She towered a good hand’s-breadth above Sparhawk. She wore a white satin blouse with full sleeves and a garment that was more like a knee-length kilt than a skirt, belted at her waist. She wore black leather boots and had a sword at her side. Her shoulders were broad and her hips lithely slender. Despite her size, she seemed perfectly proportioned. There was, however, something ominous about her expressionless gaze. She did not look at Sparhawk the way a woman would normally look at a man. She was an unsettling sort of person.
Sparhawk, stiffly correct, offered his steel-clad arm to his queen and escorted her out through the nave and to the marble steps outside the Basilica. There was a ringing tap on his armoured back as they stepped out onto the broad landing at the top of the stairs. He looked around. Mirtai had rapped on his armour with one knuckle. She took a folded cloak from off her arm, shook it out and held it for Ehlana.
‘Oh, it’s not really that cool, Mirtai,’ Ehlana objected.
Mirtai’s face went flinty, and she shook the cloak once commandingly.
Ehlana sighed and permitted the giantess to settle the cloak about her shoulders. Sparhawk was looking directly at the bronze woman’s face, so there could be no question about what happened next. Without changing expression, Mirtai gave him a slow wink. For some reason, that made him feel a great deal better. He and Mirtai were going to get along very well, he decided.
Since Vanion was busy, Sparhawk escorted Ehlana, Sephrenia, Stragen, Platime and Mirtai to Sir Nashan’s study for their discussions. He had spent the morning preparing and sharpening a number of scathing remarks that verged just on the edge of being treasonous.
Ehlana, however, had studied politics since childhood, and she knew that one needs to be quick – even abrupt – when one’s position is none too strong. ‘You’re unhappy with us,’ she began before Sparhawk even had the door closed. ‘You feel that I have no business being here and that my friends here are at fault for allowing me to place myself in danger. Is that more or less it, Sparhawk?’
‘Approximately, yes.’ His tone was frosty.
‘Let’s simplify things then,’ she went on quickly. ‘Platime, Stragen and Mirtai did, in fact, protest most violently, but I’m the queen, so I overruled them. Do we agree that I have that authority?’ Her tone had an edge to it, a note of challenge.
‘She really did, Sparhawk,’ Platime said in a conciliatory tone. ‘Stragen and I yelled at her for an hour about it, and then she threatened to have us thrown into the dungeon. She even threatened to revoke my pardon.’
‘Her Majesty is a very effective bully, Sparhawk,’ Stragen concurred. ‘Don’t ever trust her when she smiles at you. That’s when she’s the most dangerous, and when the time comes, she uses her authority like a bludgeon. We even went so far as to try to lock her in her apartment, but she just told Mirtai to kick the door down.’
Sparhawk was startled. “That’s a very thick door,’ he said.
‘It used to be. Mirtai kicked it twice, and it split right down the middle.’
Sparhawk looked at the bronze woman with some surprise.
‘It wasn’t difficult,’ she said. Her voice was soft and musical, and it was touched with just the faintest tinge of an exotic accent. ‘Doors inside of houses dry out, and they split quite easily if you kick them just right. Ehlana can use the pieces for firewood when winter comes.’ She spoke with quiet dignity.
‘Mirtai is very protective of me, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana said. ‘I feel completely secure when she’s around, and she’s teaching me to speak the language of the Tamuls.’
‘Elene is a coarse and ugly language,’ Mirtai observed.
‘I’ve noticed that,’ Sephrenia smiled.
‘I’m teaching Ehlana the Tamul tongue so that I will not be ashamed to have my owner clucking at me like a chicken.’
‘I’m not your owner any longer, Mirtai,’ Ehlana insisted. ‘I gave you your freedom right after I bought you.’
Sephrenia’s eyes were outraged. ‘Owner!’ she exclaimed.
‘It’s a custom of Mirtai’s people, little sister,’ Stragen explained. ‘She’s an Atan. They’re a warrior race, and it’s generally believed that they need guidance. The Tamuls feel that they aren’t emotionally equipped to handle freedom. It seems to cause too many casualties.’
‘Ehlana was ignorant to even make the suggestion,’ Mirtai said calmly.
‘Mirtai!’ Ehlana exclaimed.
‘Dozens of your people have insulted me since you became my owner, Ehlana,’ the Tamul woman said sternly. ‘They would all be dead now if I were free. That old one – Lenda – even let his shadow touch me once. I know that you’re fond of him, so I’d have regretted killing him.’ She sighed philosophically. ‘Freedom is very dangerous for one of my kind. I prefer not to be burdened with it.’