"You, my young friend, must stay with Kai." Nai- tachal considered something else, then added, "And I believe I shall seek this Sir Jehan and pick his brains myself."
Chapt Naitachal left Alaire on the balcony. The first thing he did after leaving the room was to see if anyone was in the hallway who could have overheard them. He found no one, not even a servant, and trusted his con- versation with Captain Lyam had been a private one.
The talk with the burly swordsman had convinced him that they were both in danger here, and he con- templated returning to Althea for Alaire's protection.
They should have sent another ambassador. Someone who's had experience with this kind of political mess, he thought, stopping short of using the term "expend- able." This situation is more dangerous than I had ever suspected.
But to leave now would only humiliate Alaire without accomplishing anything for Althea, and they would be vulnerable on the road out of here. He could imagine the ease with which the opposing fac- tion could have them both eliminated, without witnesses, and then be able to blame their demise on hazards of travel: natural predators, bandits or just simple bad luck. In many ways they were safer here, in this pit of wolves, because any harm that came to them would be most difficult to explain to an enraged King Reynard.
While this didn't grant them any immunity from hazards within the palace, it did give them some lever- age. Provided of course Suinomen didn't declare an all-out war against Althea. In which case, questions of their fate would become moot.
Better to deal with it now, he thought, resigned to the task ahead of him.
He found the huge antechamber to the King's suite, a grand room nearly the size of the great hall, taste- fully decorated with ornate, upholstered furniture and several heads of dieren and other creatures of the for- est mounted on plaques, hanging on the pale, plastered walls. The floor, as it was in just about every corner in the palace, was light, unfinished pine. Thirty or so individuals of obviously high rank lounged or talked fervently in groups, in their native language. A raging fire burned in a large fireplace, around which most of the courtiers gathered. Somewhere beyond the double doors at the end of the room was the King's reception hall, and the chamber for his private audi- ences. It was maddening to be so close and yet be unable to pass those doors. If he could only have used magic, to make himself invisible....
Well, he couldn't, and that was No one seemed to pay any real attention to him as he entered. Perhaps these people are too polite to stare. He could only hope.
From the doors at the other end of the room, Pikhalas emerged. There was a graying noble with him, and at that moment, one of the group by the fire called something out to both of them. And Naitachal recognized at least one thing in that hail. The na Sir Jehan -- who was, obviously, the man Pikhalas had just taken to speak with Archenomen.
Hmmmm. A confidant of the King. Interesting, Nai- tachal thought. Very, very interesting.
Pikhalas spotted the Dark Elf immediately. Naitachal feared he would take Sir Jehan and flee through the nearest exit, the King's aide did the opposite. He whispered something to his compan- ion, who nodded and regarded Naitachal evenly.
They both came over to him without hesitation.
What remarkable luck, Naitachal thought. Or is it?
"Ah, my dear Ambassador," Pikhalas offered. "How fortunate we both are." He extended his hand and shook Naitachal's black one warmly. "Allow me to introduce Sir Jehan. He would like to speak to you."
Pikhalas quickly excused himself, leaving the elf and human to fend for themselves. "I think we should go somewhere private," Sir Jehan said, glancing fur- tively around him. "This room is full of folk with acute hearing and loose tongues."
Naitachal nodded solemnly, following the noble to a smaller, adjoining library, leading off the antechamber.
It had a single window, also looking over the bay, but this side of the palace was colder than the sunny warmth of the balcony. On the opposite side, next to the window, was a large set of wooden doors, with golden handles. A dying fire threatened to sputter out in a stove, and as Sir Jehan stoked it, heat flooded the library.
Naitachal took this opportunity to study the man.
He was certainly no commoner, not if the ermine that trimmed his heavy winter cloak was real and not rabbit made up to resemble that royal fur. He dressed in shades of gray and black silk, with tall, soft, black leather boots, the toes tipped with silver. T Alaire had described a rascally sort of man, thi Jehan seemed the very opposite. The gray in his hair and beard gave him a distinguished air, which was en- tirely at odds with the description Alaire had given.
"There is a new chill in the air," Sir Jehan said ami- ably, turning to the elf. "I'm afraid the pleasant weather we've had during your stay is about to come to an abrupt halt."
"I was wondering if this was typical weather," Nai- tachal said cautiously. "It has been rather enjoyable."
Sir Jehan waved at one of two leather chairs.
"Please, have a seat We have much to discuss."
Naitachal did so, finding the padded leather chair unexpectedly comfortable. Sir Jehan took a similar seat, leaned forward and studied his hands. In spite of his fashionable dress, his dignified manner, there was something about him that put the Dark Elf on guard.