Turn 77

    The door is unbarred, and a couple of guards loom in the doorway. "You lot, with us."
    Ibn Fadil, already up and trying vainly to brush his clothes into something resembling tidiness, looks to Valarin to take the lead, but covertly studies the guards in an effort to gauge the general drift of their thoughts.
    Val stretches after standing and does the same, trying to get an idea if the guards have any malicious intent. They don't seem particularly pleased with their lot, expressions ranging from indifferent to hostile.
    "What was all the noise last night?" he asks innocently enough, moving to stand by the door as he was told.
    "Quiet. This way." There are six of them, the big, bearded types this place seems to grow, carrying spears.
    The... guests are escorted out of the building and across the square toward the gates of the castle. There are a number of guards and a general sense of subdued activity, but everyone watches as the trio are escorted into the heavily walled core of the city.
    "Oh, good. Now, maybe, we'll get to see something," Alais comments.
    "Quiet." The word is accompanied by a threatening glance.
    Ibn Fadil decides that perplexed worry is definitely called for, and starts exhibiting it.
    The three are escorted under careful watch through a dimly lit antechamber and a short hall that ends in a guarded set of tall double doors. A brief conversation, and one of the doors is opened, allowing the entire group entrance.
    The great hall is impressively scaled, given the rest of the city; about thirty feet high, slightly rectangular, hung with banners that can't be read in the dim light of torches on the walls and banks of massive candles near the far end, flanking the lord's chair, which is made of dark wood generously inlaid with ivory in intricate patterns. The captain is standing to one side, scowling. It's not much warmer in the room than it is outside. The man in the chair is older, fifty or so, wearing an impassive expression, a narrow circlet of what looks like iron, and a heavy fur cloak over robes. He is also wearing a heavy sword, as is the captain. The escort salutes their captain briskly and stand back a bit, but continue watching closely.
    "So this is the cause of all the trouble, then. Who are you?" The older man's voice is somewhat raspy but strong; he does not seem a man to brook any nonsense.
    Time to be the responsible one. Val runs his fingers through his hair, the only outward appearance of nervousness, as he slips behind his business façade.
    "I am Captain Ehrendrin of the spelljammer _Distraction_," he says respectfully as he steps forward. He pauses briefly to study the reaction to what he said before continuing. There is a subtle increase in the tension level. The captain frowns."These are members of my crew: Yusuf Fadilsson and Master Zeremin. We are exploring this region in hopes of establishing a trade route for our sponsor. I apologize for any misunderstandings that may have occurred."
    Behind him, ibn Fadil winces and hisses, "Sir! You call him 'my lord'! Or maybe 'your highness' or 'your majesty.'" His strangled whisper is not quite audible enough to be intrusive.
    There is puzzlement on some of the faces, but the lord remains difficult to read, aside from a faint, not-quite smile. "'My lord' will do. Tell me of your vessel and this... 'sponsor.'"
    "My lord," Val concedes gracefully, lowering his eyes momentarily to show respect. "Our ship is very unique, a modified 'damselfly.' Small but very capable, we use her to travel the 'spheres. She is the property of the Three Trees Company, our sponsor." Again, he looks for any sign of recognition in the faces before him.
    There is again some increased tension, but the guards stand down a bit at a waved hand. "Spheres," the lord muses. "So these are Durrell's sky-folk? You are far from his lands. And that is, then, your... vessel which has caused such disturbance among my villagers to the north?"
    Disturbance? Oh boy... He recognizes the name of Ginevra's father, as does ibn Fadil.
    "Quite possible, my lord," Val replies apologetically. "We thought to set down somewhere secluded and get our bearings. This is *our* first time here. I hope the disturbance was not too great?"
    "It has certainly been sufficient," is the laconic reply. "Captain," he addresses the man beside him, "keep the alert until your men return."
    "My lord." He bows, nods to one of the guardsmen, who salutes and heads off to spread the word. They are indeed, as ibn Fadil noted, an orderly people.
    "And you," he says to Valarin and the others, "I would know more of yourselves and your mission. Your ignorance of our ways is perhaps understandable, but know that we do not look well upon liars."
    _I could have told them so_, Alais whispers to himself.
    Under this prodding Valarin adopts a respectfully business-like attitude and tells the man about the _Distraction_, her crew--some of whose appearance may otherwise alarm--and in general terms her voyage, without mentioning Victor. At this point another messenger is dispatched, and the escort dismissed--although no doubt they will remain close at hand--so that his lordship can question the strangers more privately, with only the captain present.
    The three aliens learn that they have arrived in the city and lands of Myrr, held by Lord Bogumil Tesfaye direct from the High King. The captain of the guard is introduced as Feliks. Lord Tesfaye seems skeptical but intrigued by their story. Durrell has clearly not kept his access to off-world trade a secret, but it seems he has put out as few details as possible; his lordship wants to know if the visitors are part of the same consortium, and if not what relationship there is between the two and if there are more such, what sort of goods Three Trees deals in, whether more contacts can be expected and what has prevented them in the past.
    He invites the three of them to ask questions as well, no doubt operating under the same assumption that what they ask will provide him information about them as well....

* * *

    "They're headed this way. Six horsemen with spears, could have other arms I didn't see. A couple of dozen villagers, they're carrying staves. Shall we try talking to them again?"
    

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