Turn 108

"Celina is one of the seamstresses here," Mihal introduces her. The woman curtseys deeply, unspeaking. "She is very well spoken of."
    Ibn Fadil talks with her for a bit, discusses what he wants.
    "Tonight?" Behind the veil her eyes widen and she bobs apologetically. "For court? Milord, I do not think... I do not know if something suitable could be prepared in such a short time."
    "That's all right," Nyala says dryly, noting, "I don't see *you* getting all peacocked up for this. They can take me as they find me."
    Celina looks at the way the elf is dressed and says a bit weakly, "I am sure we can do something." Nyala sniffs, clearly annoyed by the whole business but willing to put up with it for the moment. Inez never turns down clothes. By morning both women are simply but decently dressed according to local standards. The matter of payment does not come up; she is a servant, after all.
    Mihal, meanwhile, continues to reinforce ibn Fadil's initial impression of a bright young human with a lot to learn.

    ***********
    At last with a bow Daniel leaves them in what must be an antechamber to the throne room, a long, low room hung with tapestries. The focus is a pair of high bronze doors. There is a brief, quiet disagreement between ibn Fadil and Nyala -- they are here as ship's crew, she argues, not in a social capacity, and it would be inappropriate to enter together. A tall, thin man in the royal livery speaks briefly with each of them and makes sure he has their names and rank correct, and before anyone knows it they are being announced.
    Around them are clustered the notable people of the court. All but one of them are armed, which is startling and presumably a sign of their status, and several of them stand out from the others. One of them is Lord Fynn, leaning on an ebony cane as he stands near the throne. The unarmed one is a very fat man who appears to be dressed entirely in gold and carries rather than leans upon an elaborately decorated staff that appears to be a single, massive piece of ivory. The third (and fourth and fifth), and something of a shock, is a dwarf, or rather a trio of dwarves--the ambassador and his assistants, most likely.
    Ibn Fadil covertly watches the dwarves, interested in their reaction to the group and to him and Nyala. There is no clear sign of recognition, but intense interest in the non-human members of the party.
    "Be welcome to our lands, travelers from afar," the king greets them, "and you as well, Brother," he adds for Lynden's sake. "May the gods bless your journeys in the future. We are pleased to see you here in our capital, where we may thank you in person for the services you rendered us in Myrr; but for your timely intervention, we understand that we would have lost a worthy man. And furthermore, we understand that you are here in hopes of opening permanent relations that would be beneficial, of course, to all."
    It isn't really a question, but he does pause to see if anyone is going to say anything. Many eyes are watching very closely.
    "My liege." Lynden bows deeply from the waist and bends his knee as he speaks. "May Gerik's favor fall upon your highnesses. You do us great honor by receiving us." He awaits permission to rise, his eyes downcast, and the king gestures magnanimously for him to stand.
    Yestin suppresses a frown. Lynden is as much a guest among the crew as the crew is among the High King's court, and it perturbs the Giff that the Rigolian priest spoke first, when it was clearly his own place to do so. Yestin is nervous about his new position as senior officer and therefore quite keen to follow proper protocols to the letter.
    "Your Majesty." Yestin bows with a flourish, evincing a nimble courtesy made all the more remarkable by his impressive size and the conspicuously displayed greatsword strapped upon his back. "You do indeed do us great honor. On behalf of the crew of the Distraction, our greetings and humble thanks for your welcome."
    Everyone else bows as previously instructed, Emmett with his usual brevity and ibn Fadil with exactitude. The formers scan of the room reveals quite a few armed guards standing in the shadowed nooks around the room, unobtrusive but very much present.
    Yestin gestures for the castle servants previously commandeered into service, to bring forth the small chests of goods carried from the ship. "In commemoration of this auspicious meeting, may we present these gifts from the officers and crew of Three Trees. First, bolts of the finest silk, imported from far-flung Ku'Lung. Next, glassware blown by the master craftsmen of The Jaded City of Jural. Finally, a weight of quality iron, suitable for fashioning into the finest weapons, from the famous Kron Hill mines of fabled Oerth." In truth, Yestin isn't entirely sure where these goods had been manufactured or acquired, but he knows they will seem all the more impressive if they come from far-off and mysterious nations.
    Yestin shrugs his shoulders and tries to appear embarrassed. "Mere trinkets, I'm afraid, unworthy repayment of Your Majesty's hospitality. Still, we hope you will accept them in the spirit of friendship with which they are offered."
    The king does appear pleased, by both the gifts and the speech. "We thank you and accept these gifts. It speaks well of you that you have chosen to approach us so directly; auspicious indeed be this day." As he speaks, the man in gold steps points his staff toward the items, speaking softly to himself in what sounds like gibberish, and then gives a slight nod; everyone else ignores this behavior.
    While the gifts are being displayed, ibn Fadil watches the watchers with bland curiosity, assessing their reactions - especially those of the dwarves, the king, Lord Fynn, and the probable priest with the ivory staff. The general impression is one of interested approval, but of course with courtiers it's always hard to tell what they really think.
    King Roald continues, "Anxious we are to learn more of you and your people; we are certain we have much to offer one another. Allow us to introduce to you the most valued members of our court." He names people off to them, each of whom offers a slight bow. The man in gold turns out to be Aron the Wise, court wizard to His Majesty. Ambassador Rithisak Steelhand is introduced, and General Brosh, and Father Ziven, a small, brown, easily overlooked man who turns out to be priest to the king's household (which is not the same thing as the head of the church) and a flurry of other officials.
    When he's done with this a thought seems to strike the king and he smiles broadly, a careless expression. "As you may know, it is our custom here that after the midwinter festivals, we hunt, and the omens we find in the fields and forests guide us through the coming year. We would be greatly pleased if you would accompany us in this, that we might find time to further discuss matters of... mutual interest."
    There is a slight stir among the gathering at this invitation. Even the queen looks interested.
    The formal part of the audience ends and small conversations ensue. Protocol dictates that Yestin pay attention to the king, of course, giving him the by-now-practiced short version of the history of the universe, with the chancellor and General Brosh listening close at hand. Emmett drifts that way as well; the talk is the sort of adroit generalities that don't really interest him, but he takes the opportunity to take stock of the general; a strong-looking man on the near side of forty, wearing a damn big sword, he's got a steady eye and serious mien. He is watching Steelhand, his expression impassive, and he only asks one question: "If the distances between these... spheres are as vast as you say, how can goods be transported? It takes weeks by ship from here to Mombast Bay in fair weather; your airship is very quick, but would it not even so be many years then from here to these other worlds?"
    Alais is immediately buttonholed by Aron the Wise, the big man clearly interested in chatting with (and sizing up) a colleague. Alais' manner of conversation is, as usual, somewhat bemusing, but after a while Aron begins to smile. "You must stop by my workshop while you are in the capital, I'm sure we have much to discuss."
    Pham and Lynden speak with Father Ziven, nothing of consequence but both highly conscious of the bright brown eyes measuring their words.
    Ibn Fadil and Nyala find themselves approached by the dwarven ambassador, who bows and asks, "Forgive the crudity of the inquiry, but might I ask what manner of being you are?"

    * * *
    At last, court is ended. Exhausted by spending several hours under intense scrutiny, the group is escorted back to their quarters, where food (and wine) are waiting for them, along with Daniel, who informs them that he is as always at their disposal, and if they would like to explore the city they have only to inquire and he will see to it that they are guided.
    

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