Turn 109

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--but she accepts a generous tip with rather embarrassingly effusive gratitude.
    Lynden has reluctantly decided that he's better off sleeping in the crew's quarters, perhaps on a pallet in the communal room. Daniel gives this suggestion all attention, brow creased in almost comical thought--clearly he takes his duties very seriously--then nods sharply and departs to see to the arrangements. In the end Lynden's bed is as comfortable as any of the others, and several elaborately carved ivory screens provide a degree of privacy.

    * * *
    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.
    And he counters that he doesn't want any potentially fatal misunderstandings about her character. "Back in Myrr, I was so angry about it I could have chewed iron and spit nails." Obviously, he's spent too much time around Emmett.
    "I think that since they are inviting us at all, they have no pressing concerns about such. And if they did, what of it? We will not be here much longer. I find it interesting," she adds with that slight smile, "that you will deliberately ensure that people think quite unflattering things about yourself, but grow angry when the same favor is done to others."
    "Some bad habits are harder to break," he quips, and yields the point with a wordless gesture inviting her to walk beside him but not quite "with" him.

    * * *
    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."
    Emmett suppresses a grin - the brief education he and Ibn Fadil had given Yestin on the flight in seems to have worked wonders.
    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.
    Yestin nods politely and exchanges the proper pleasantries in turn with each of the dignitaries as they are announced, though, a military man, he is most interested in the General and surveys the man with a critical eye. Stolid-looking sort, very difficult to read. Under the fine clothes he holds himself like a soldier, and a man in good condition as well. Surely his concerns are two-fold: any threat that might be represented by the extra-planetary contact itself, which he can probably barely conceive at this point, and so perhaps greater at the moment how the arrivals impact his plans (surely he has them) for handling the upstart Durrell.
    Lynden waits until he is sure the introductions are completed, before offering up a short prayer to Gerik honoring the advisers for their dutiful service to the King. He hopes this will not be seen to be presumptuous. If it is, no one remarks on it, at any rate.
    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.
    This cements ibn Fadil's initial impression that this monarch will do nicely, and that they had better be damn careful in dealing with him. He also can't help but looked pleased at the prospect of a hunt.
    Emmett leans forward "Your majesty, it has been literally years since any of us experienced a good hunt, and we gladly accept your invitation." He adopts his classic "humble" grin. "Of course, it has also been some time since we've ridden horses at run, so we ask your court to hide their laughter at us until the affair is over."
    "Indeed," Yestin agrees, pleased at the turn of events. "I fear, Your Majesty, that I sit an awkward horse at best, given my stature. I hope there's a mount to be found that will not suffer o'ermuch for carrying my, er, prodigious girth."
    These concerns are graciously waved away.
    The ship's crew may be pleased with the King's suggestion but Lynden feels his legs turn to jelly at the mention of hunting. He has had no experience of riding a donkey let alone a horse and can see no way in which he can avoid the planned excursion without exposing his deficiency or becoming a liability.
    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?"
    "Weeeeelllll, that's a little complicated. Um, imagine that your city is in the center of the lands, with the ocean a fair distance away." Emmett starts using his hands to aid his description, "Getting to the ocean would take a long time, but once on the ocean you could travel much faster. Our ship and the spaces off a world are like that: this world is in the center of the sphere, in which our ship moves comparatively as rapidly as carts move over land. Outside the sphere is something like an ocean, on which our ship reach even greater speeds. Even still, travel between spheres is a journey of months, and few make such a trip regularly."
    Yestin nods and smiles softly, pleased by Emmett's straightforward and easily understood explanation. The mechanics of Spelljamming are somewhat lost on the Giff, despite his many years in space, and he had been about to ask Alais to explain. That could have been quite tedious for their hosts.
    "But there are then other worlds within mere months' travel?" Fynn looks intrigued and changes the subject slightly. "Do you know anything of these... Victor people?"
    "Yes, we do. Victor and Sons are another trading house. It appears they were the first such house to locate your sphere, and have set up a trading arrangement with Lord Durrell. But you must know this much -- surely he would have announced himself openly to the King and court, just as we are now?" Emmett delivers this question with a straight face, leaving it to Fynn to determine if the half man is legitimately surprised or getting in an attack on a rival by deliberately pointing out a gaffe in etiquette.
    Yestin, perhaps missing the subtle purpose of Emmett's interrogative, adds, "We are acquainted with the Victor who trades with Durrell, a nephew to the head of that trading house. He is... not a scrupulous man."
    The chancellor makes a faint tsk sound. "A pity. You know, I am sure," he smiles slightly, "that these people have confined their contacts entirely to Lord Durrell himself. I understand that a marriage alliance was made. His Lordship has found this relationship most profitable. If one believed every rumor, one would think that he now dwells in a house of iron."
    Yestin and Emmett share a glance. Obviously, what these people are going to be most interested in buying is metal. Brosh's question hinted at what is likely his main concern; if any deal can be reached with these newcomers, can there be delivery in time to be useful to him, or will he be taking on Durrell without that?
    Pham and Lynden speak with Father Ziven, nothing of consequence but both highly conscious of the bright brown eyes measuring their words. As the conversation progresses Lynden makes an attempt to identify the Father's religious persuasion, looking for any symbols that he might recognize and listening for any obvious references to the usual pantheon of deities found on Rigol or of others with whom he is not familiar. Somewhat surprisingly, the priest is of Marek; the bear-god's selected servants tend to partake of their totem animal's nature, but Ziven is clearly of a different sort.
    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?"
    Ibn Fadil returns a nicely calculated bow and replies: "There is no possibility of offense, Ambassador. I have had to ask the same question myself, a time or two. The lady is an elf; I myself am part human and part elven. Our oversized captain is a giff," he adds genially.
    "Thank you." He bows, dwarf-formal. "It is somewhat startling for us, you understand, to find the universe larger than we thought. The customs of humans are well known to us, of course, but I would be interested to learn of your own folk, to learn what we may have in common. It seems that we share one custom at least, that humans do not." He nods politely to Nyala; she looks gravely amused, but it's unlikely anyone but ibn Fadil would notice. Perhaps it's because of some nonverbal sign of the differences between her and the women of this world. The dwarf is certainly willing to speak to her; Inez is being largely ignored by the humans.
    "The customs of humans vary widely," ibn Fadil notes. "Some might even say absurdly," he adds with a cheerful glance at Nyala. Somewhere at the back of his mind he is trying to calculate the potential value of a lost clan of dwarves to some of the other, powerful clans out in Known Space: but none of that shows in his friendly exterior. It might be considerable. Given the delicate situation here between human and dwarven populations, it's quite difficult to predict what will happen once more intersphere traffic arrives.
    "No doubt we are all equally absurd to one another," he shrugs congenially. "I should like to speak under other circumstances than these," he adds very quietly, then smiles as they are joined by Lord Peric, who had been introduced simply as an advisor. "This hunt shall be an interesting business, don't you think? My people don't go in for it much ourselves of course," he laughs, "but I've acquired some slight skill, I think."
    "We shall see what the omens bring," the new arrival says austerely.
    "Let us hope the omens do not depend on my own prowess," ibn Fadil responds. "It has been far too many years since I rode a horse, much less gone hunting. Tell me, my lord, do your people favor the bow or the spear?"
    For the remainder of the audience they talk with some pleasure about hunting, aware of the dwarf's bright eyes on them. What does he want to talk about?

    * * *

    The next day:
    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.
    Emmett has a brief conversation of facial expressions with Inez before turning back to the young man. "Guides. Tomorrow. Two hours past dawn. We're going out to look around."
    "Of course, milord."
    It seems that most of the visitors are interested in exploring the city while they have a chance, and almost everyone feels some need to prepare for the hunt. The weather is gray and squally, but like the Rigolians they aren't about let this stop them.
    Ibn Fadil and Nyala are up early and visiting the stables as arranged. There is a brief delay while Nyala explains in no uncertain terms that she is not riding sidesaddle, but they are eventually loaned a couple of the tall, sturdy beasts common on this world. They're not exactly light on their feet, but powerful enough to forge a way through the deep snow. After a few turns around the yard to get acquainted, they go out into the city in search of warm clothes and diversions, accompanied by a middle-aged servant assigned to guide them.
    The city is, as they noticed from the air, considerably larger than Myrr (though that still isn't saying much compared to some other worlds). The buildings are less decorated, and more of them are of stone, lending the place a rather stern look. The streets are straight and wide, suggesting that this place was built to some plan, at least in parts. They pass through several markets, finding ample opportunity to pick up any items they feel will be needed for the expedition to come.
    Brisk trade appears to be going on along the river, which although dotted with chunks of ice is not frozen over. They even see a few dwarves in the streets, staying carefully out of the way of humans they pass.
    Emmett and Inez have ventured out on foot, accompanied by stares everywhere they go. Inez is ebullient at being able to *do* something and happy to assume that the stares are directed at her companion. She makes a point of talking to a lot of people--asking directions, inquiring about merchandise in the market, remarking on the weather, making almost constant small talk with their assigned guide, and in all forcing them to acknowledge her existence, which most of them do, albeit with many a puzzled and rather disapproving glance at Emmett. Though they may have seen the ship descend, most of the people here have not heard descriptions of the visitors, or even know that there are any, perhaps thinking the ship some wizardly or dwarven delegation to the court. By the end of the day, however, rumors will be rife.
    A bit of asking around locates the headquarters of the Artificer's Guild; the population of the city is such that the guild owns more than one property in Narain. It is an imposing stone building, several stories tall and fronted with proper piety by a lavish shrine to their patron deities Albin and Lucja, the clever fox and the crafting spider.
    In the meantime, Yestin pursues the same general course he did in Myrr: getting to know the local guards and soldiers, discussing the state of defenses and other military matters (out of general curiosity -- not probingly), and being generally helpful around the castle and city where he can. The guards here are more disciplined than they were in Myrr, and it's more difficult to find people to talk to; everyone is correctly polite and helpful, but not chatty. Eventually he does locate the barracks, where several dozen men are drilling under the gimlet eye of the sergeant who first met the ship. That one didn't seem friendly at all, so he continues hunting around until he locates some off-duty guards keeping warm cheer indoors with a barrel of beer, and settles down to learning what he can.
    Alais passes an amiable morning in the palace library, then has an impressive lunch with Aron the Wise, who asks a great many questions about spelljamming, spheres, and the nature of the universe beyond the world he knows. He is taken aback, as Rigolians tend to be, by the expanse of it all, the size and the number of worlds, the many peoples never imagined, let alone encountered.
    Lynden speaks privately with Daniel about his lack of riding prowess. Perhaps he could accompany the hunt followers? Daniel, as always, listens as if solving this problem is the most important thing in the world to him at the moment, and assures him that every care will be taken in selecting a mount, and he will be provided with any assistance necessary. No doubt the king would be most displeased should any ill befall the visitors.
    Subsequently he attends to his prayers, giving particular emphasis on his requests for appropriate spells for the morning.
    That afternoon, and somewhat to his surprise, he is approached by Brother Pham. "I hope this is not an imposition, but I have a request to make. After what happened in Myrr, I am quite concerned about what we may find here. If this... plague reached that city, there is no reason it cannot have come here as well. I saw no signs in court yesterday. I suggest we hold a second hunt, for signs of the evil influence we encountered before." Unexpectedly he smiles, reminding Lynden how young the other priest is, and suggesting that the solemnity that has gripped him since they met is not his natural character. "It is a large building to canvas, and no doubt there are places we are forbidden to go, and it is a chancy thing in any case to seek such an intangible, but... I should feel more at ease for having made the attempt."

    * * *

The Hunt Begins:

    All through the following day the visitors are vaguely conscious of a great deal of activity going on around them, but it is still an astonishing sight to see the next sun rise on what looks like an army preparing to move out under a blustery sky. They eat, dress, and hasten down to join the others and begin the procession through the city.
    First, a dozen fully-equipped outriders, banners fluttering. Then a half dozen high-ranking priests in their animal heads and cloaks. Following them, the king and court, and the visitors -- some of the latter very nervous atop their tall mounts, however placid, and Yestin in a sledge drawn by antlered draft animals of a type they had not seen in Myrr, no horse being available to carry him. Then the huntsmen and junior priests with dogs. Then about a hundred servants (including Mihal, who has grave misgivings about this business) to see to all of the above, on foot or driving or riding other sledges packed with tents and weapons and food and all manner of other gear, and followed at last by another dozen soldiers.
    People line the streets and watch in solemn silence, and except for an occasional low-voiced order, no one in the procession speaks until they are beyond the walls. Lord Fynn, who somewhat to the visitors' surprise is riding, despite his advanced age and injuries, explains the way of things to them. They will travel inland and cross the river at Adessin, and from there climb up into the foothills to establish a main camp. After that, they depend on the gods to direct matters.
    Lynden knows all about this custom, of course, having accompanied Tesfaye on past excursions, and wonders idly if His Lordship is meeting with luck this year, and if they have executed Cyryl yet. He is aware of grumbling among the junior priests about the presence of the offwolders, especially their women, who clearly have no business being there, but just try telling the king otherwise when he's got his mind made up.... It *is* unusual to the point of being bizarre. The only explanation he can think of is that His Majesty wants to know more about these people -- *all* of them. He spends a lot of time answering Alais' questions about what's going to happen in the course of the hunt.
    Progress is slow with such a large group, but at noon they are crossing the river on a bridge of extraordinary length and height; it shows a grasp of building techniques they have seen nowhere else, and more than one of the visitors glances at Steelhand and wonders about its past. The dwarf looks entirely ridiculous on his horse but seems comfortable enough and cheerful.
    They turn toward the mountains, then, and after going on for some more miles call a halt as dusk settles over the white landscape. Flurries of snow come and go, but this doesn't seem to bother anyone unduly. Tents are raised, fires lit, food prepared. There is still something particularly satisfying about warm food and drink at the end of a day spent in the outdoors, even one of mostly very slow riding, while the wind and distant wolves sing the moon up across the sky.
    For two more days they travel, always climbing now, until at last reaching a pine wood in a sort of dell beyond the first rank of hills. There a longer-term camp is established. Servants fell trees and drag them together after the evening meal is done with. At midnight this large central fire is lit, and the priests sing and chant their prayers for the remainder of the night. The others nap, sharpen weapons, and talk quietly. Despite his earlier words, the king has not spoken much to the offworlders as they traveled. Perhaps he is waiting to see what the omens say.
    When the first sliver of sun is visible on the horizon, the priests each walk out from camp in a different direction. They walk for a hour, then return to report what tracks they have seen. It is a clear, bitterly cold day. Lynden is pleased when near the end of his hour he comes across the trail of a solitary stag; a good sign for him, whatever it may mean for the kingdom.
    For the first day, the reports are good; there are deer, elk, boar, and bear to be seen, and the night howls prove that Rudof's children are watching over the endeavor--and still more. As Gwidon, high priest for all the realm, listens to the reports, he begins to smile, and turns to his anxiously waiting king.
    "Excellent, sire. Mastodon! They passed by not longer than a day ago."
    The hunt begins to break up into smaller groups, and excited dogs are brought to heel, ready to venture out in search of quarry. Not everyone remains on horseback, the visitors notice, some apparently more comfortable afoot for this business. Some don't seem to be going anywhere at all, namely Fynn and the large wizard.
    

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