Which was just fine with Naitachal, given his exhaustion. Wine poured freely, but he only pre- tended to indulge, knowing that if he did in his present state he would likely make a fool of himself and, in turn, of Althea. No, that would not do. At all.
He was a little put out that they did not seat Alaire next to him, but to maintain Alaire's false identity, he said nothing. After all, Alaire was a servant. It won't kill him. And he might even learn something.
After supper, Naitachal spent what seemed like hours getting acquainted with the highborn of Suinomen. But as he became accustomed to some of their nuances of speech, he realized he was little more than an oddity, and they were more interested in his race -- an elf, and a Dark Elf at that -- than his appointme Ambassador of Althea. From what he gathered from their fragments of conversation, no one really seemed to want a war, or even know that the King had made threats.
That the King allowed him to mingle so freely seemed odd. If these folk intended a fight with Althea shouldn't they spirit its ambassador off to his private quarters after supper to better control what he saw and heard? Instead, they left him to his own devices.
The worst was the surreptitious glances as he walked past their huddled groups. He soon grew tired of their impolite stares. Until these people grew used to him and treated him as something other than a freak, he preferred the company of Alaire, the King, or no one at all.
One particular nobleman, a count, or the closest equivalent to that tide, showed a little more respect than the others. He was a middle-aged man, wearing a fine fur jacket, trimmed with silver, which matched his thick head of gray-white hair. He had also been indulging generously in the wine at dinner and was eager to talk. In short, an excellent source of dropped information.
In spite of his desire to find his bed and sleep for a day, he entertained this Count Takalo, slyly turning the conversation around to international relations between Althea and Suinomen.
"Couldn't be better," the Count brayed, in a fine baritone voice that rattled all the crystal goblets within reach. "In fact, I'm hoping to establish free trade soon."
Naitachal nodded wisely. "I'm sure Althea would reciprocate. Particularly if the trade involved dieren.
That is, if you were willing to part with some of your herds."
The Count's expression turned crafty. "I wouldn't know about that. The plan I like best involves selling dieren of only one sex. Is that why you're here? To talk trade?"
Naitachal smiled smoothly. "King Reynard sent me to discuss several things."
During this conversation, he noticed Alaire talking to someone who appeared to be of noble birth, given his elaborate dress. At first this alarmed him, Alaire's role put him lower on the social ladder than this other highborn lad. Then he relaxed, realizing that if the stranger chose to speak to Alaire, they might learn something useful. And if Alaire did commit a social blunder, it shouldn't really matter much; they were, after all, silly foreigners.
Emphasis on silly for Alaire. Hope he doesn't overdo the stupid, naive, country-lad pose. If he gets into any trouble, he's likely to be on his own. But Naitachal noted, with satisfaction, that the bardling was still wearing his blade.
Count Takalo apparently noticed the direction Nai- tachal was looking, and nodded at Alaire and the other young man. "Would that be your assistant I saw you with earlier?"
"Yes it would," Naitachal replied. He raised an eye- brow at the younger man's antics; the boy was obviously drunk. Very drunk. "Who's that with him?"
The Count shrugged, as if the boy's behavior was of little importance. "Oh, that's the Crown Pr Kainemonen."
The elf raised both his eyebrows at this. "
Prince?" But he's making a complete fool of himself in public. Doesn't his father care?
"Ach," the Count said, in obvious embarrassment.
"I'm afraid he drinks a little more than he should. He's young. But I hear the King was the same way." When the Count spoke of the royal family, his voice lowered.
"The King, he's afraid the Prince might want the throne a little early, if you know what I mean."
Naitachal decided to feign naivete. "Well, no, I don't. Do you mean a revolt?"
"Perhaps." The Count shook his head. "I'm not so certain of this, but the King seems rather fearful of the prospect. I can't imagine anyone taking Kai seriously, but there is always the possibility of someone using him as a puppet, I suppose."
No doubt "Is the Prince always, well, intoxicated?"