The King shook his head. "If there is a danger to me, which I doubt, it would be in the form of going too far to defend against hazards which do not exist.
Sir Jehan will calm down. When he does, then we can settle down to business."
The dinner proceeded in silence, and slowly the other guests excused themselves. It seemed all very strange to the Dark Elf, who would have expected at least some show of concern for Alaire and the Prince.
Naitachal permitted himself to display his worry Alaire, as he wondered what had really happened in the tavern district.
After supper adjourned, the King took Naitachal aside. "We will keep you informed, Ambassador,"
King said, evidently thinking he had to smooth ruffled feathers. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. By dawn they'll both come staggering home, with youth- ful tales of wine and women. Oh, and before you leave," he added. "It would probably be best if you remain in your quarters."
To Naitachal's accusing look, he quickly ame "So that we can find you on short notice, of course.
And for your safety."
Naitachal raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know my safety was in question."
The King waved the comment away. "Just a precau- tion. Good evening, Ambassador."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Naitachal said, bowing deeply. "And good evening."
As he ascended the stairs to his room, he sa Jehan standing in the shadows, talking with a handful of noblemen. He stopped as soon as Naitachal came into view, and sent the others about their business before turning pointedly to go himself. But he man- aged to cast a cold, calculating look towards the elf, complete with nauseating smile, before he was out of Chapte Alaire awakened, confused and rather groggy, buried to the chin in a pile of hay in a loft above a stable.
Below him, he heard horses blowing and stamping.
Dim gray light filtered in through closed shutters at one end of the loft. Kai was nowhere in sight. Weakly, he struggled to sit up.
It was very cold, and the hay was all that had been keeping him warm. He took in his surroundings, won- dering why he was there, and how. A single ladder lay against the loft edge within arm's reach, and it looked like the only way up. In his mouth lingered the unpleasant aftertaste of liquor. Did I get drunk and forget what happened? He'd heard about blackouts from his brother Craig, who on numerous occasions had been unable to recall an entire evening of drink- ing. More than once Alaire had helped put him to bed after too much ale, after one of his Required Fam Visits to the palace in Silver City. But this had never happened to him. Then again, he'd never tried to keep up with a sot quite like Kai before.
There's a first time for everything. Did someone carry me up to this loft because I passed out? Gods, what happened to me?
A single round ventilation grille above him allowed some light in. Beyond the piles of hay he made out the wood-slat floor, which creaked as he stirred, and the vague outline of his harp in its canvas bag, leaning against the wall. Beside it was his bloodied sword, glinting in the weak light.
Blood? What i The blood was dull and brown on the blade. Sud- denly he remembered everything.
"Oh. No," he whispered to the chill air. The words froze like little clouds before his nose. Another sort of chill settled into his spine, and he suppressed a violent shudder. Gods. l used magic.
Total wakefulness came with the realization.
Though still drained from the ordeal, he struggled to his feet, a little unsteady, but more or less alert to every sound in the stable. Within moments he was numb with cold. From below him came the odor of horse, or possibly dieren. The beasts made little noise in the stable, and Alaire guessed it was fairly late now, and they were asleep. Best to let it stay that way.
He considered the likely prospect that Kai had left him here, to fend for himself, and had returned to the castle alone. Staying with me would serve no purpose, he admitted. Better that he's gone when the Swords of the Association come take me away.
Climbing to the top of a mound of hay, he peered out between the slats of the small, round window and studied the snow-covered street below. A thick layer of white covered the entire landscape, and dotting the streets of what had to be the edge of the tavern district were the staggering remnants of the evening's revelers. He thought he saw the two men who'd fought over the bottle of aakaviit, but that did not concern him. What did matter was that he didn't think he was far from the scene o "crime"; he puzzled over why the Swords hadn't picked them up already.
Isn't arrest for Magic simultaneous with the spell- casting? Maybe not. Maybe the mages here weren't good enough to catch the perpetrator in time.
Before the arrest of the two magicians the previous night, the officers had talked with the barkeep first.