coming from a land-locked country as he did, he was unfamiliar with sailing terms. But, being who he was, he did not appear to be put off for very long. “I am glad to hear that, for this afternoon I shall sit in my audience chamber and hear the grievances of my people — and you will sit there with me.”
The swallow of wine I had just taken seemed to sour in my mouth. Or perhaps it was simply that the thin Northern vintage didn’t measure up to the richer wines produced by my family’s vineyards. “I’ll what?”
“The consort always accompanies the Mark on audience days. I see no reason why you should be treated any differently.”
I could think of several hundred reasons why I should be treated differently, starting with how I was in North Eredor under duress, and therefore not someone inclined to offer an overly sympathetic ear to the grievances of its people. None of these arguments would work, though. I knew, as I watched Kadar’s false smile grow again, that I would be forced again to suffer yet another of his charades.
----
T he audience chamber was located in the same wing as the great hall where we had feasted and danced only the night before. Somehow that evening already seemed very far away, as if it had happened to someone other than myself. This room, I noticed as Kadar led me to the pair of high carved thrones on a dais at its far end, was smaller and narrower, with long benches arranged on each wall — presumably for the watching audience.
I took my seat, grateful for the new gown of green cut velvet Beranne had brought to me. The grey pearls that had belonged to Kadar’s mother circled my throat and crowned my head; I thought perhaps I looked like a consort, even if I didn’t feel much like one.
Once we were seated, the guards began to let in the observers. I hoped, as I watched the throngs enter and jostle for places on the benches, that they did not all have grievances to present, or we would be there for a very long time. Perhaps some of them had merely come to catch a glimpse of the new consort.
This thought made me sit up a little straighter in my chair, and I took in a deep breath. Beside me, Kadar looked impressive enough in a high-necked doublet of black wool, a band of silver set with a single faceted garnet holding his heavy dark hair back from his brow. He nodded to Althan, who stood at the foot of the dais. “We may begin.”
I had worried what my role in these proceedings would be, but apparently while my presence was required, my counsel was not. Several people came forth and stated their cases, which tended to be simple enough disputes over land ownership, or claims of grievances in various business dealings. Kadar listened to all the parties involved, asked more cogent questions than I had expected, and in all cases but one delivered the same judgment I would have given — had I been asked.
Not a figurehead? I thought, considering my current role as a silent observer. Perhaps he and I have different definitions of the term…
But then two men approached, one in the simply cut doublet and high boots that seemed to be the standard male garb in North Eredor, the other in a long tunic of a style that had been out of fashion even in the South for at least a decade. He had mid-brown hair and eyes, and was not as tall as most Northern men.
The Northerner bowed to Kadar and said, “Your Highness, I did not wish to approach you with such a petty matter, but the other party involved has proved so intractable that I had no choice but to bring my case to the Hall of Grievances.”
Kadar nodded. “Go on.”
“Highness, this man and I entered into a business dealing, but he has conspired to cheat me at every turn. Now I only wish to recoup my original investment, but he will not allow me even that much satisfaction.”
During this speech the man in the tunic had remained silent, but his brow had twisted and an expression of angry bewilderment crossed his features. Finally he
The swallow of wine I had just taken seemed to sour in my mouth. Or perhaps it was simply that the thin Northern vintage didn’t measure up to the richer wines produced by my family’s vineyards. “I’ll what?”
“The consort always accompanies the Mark on audience days. I see no reason why you should be treated any differently.”
I could think of several hundred reasons why I should be treated differently, starting with how I was in North Eredor under duress, and therefore not someone inclined to offer an overly sympathetic ear to the grievances of its people. None of these arguments would work, though. I knew, as I watched Kadar’s false smile grow again, that I would be forced again to suffer yet another of his charades.
----
T he audience chamber was located in the same wing as the great hall where we had feasted and danced only the night before. Somehow that evening already seemed very far away, as if it had happened to someone other than myself. This room, I noticed as Kadar led me to the pair of high carved thrones on a dais at its far end, was smaller and narrower, with long benches arranged on each wall — presumably for the watching audience.
I took my seat, grateful for the new gown of green cut velvet Beranne had brought to me. The grey pearls that had belonged to Kadar’s mother circled my throat and crowned my head; I thought perhaps I looked like a consort, even if I didn’t feel much like one.
Once we were seated, the guards began to let in the observers. I hoped, as I watched the throngs enter and jostle for places on the benches, that they did not all have grievances to present, or we would be there for a very long time. Perhaps some of them had merely come to catch a glimpse of the new consort.
This thought made me sit up a little straighter in my chair, and I took in a deep breath. Beside me, Kadar looked impressive enough in a high-necked doublet of black wool, a band of silver set with a single faceted garnet holding his heavy dark hair back from his brow. He nodded to Althan, who stood at the foot of the dais. “We may begin.”
I had worried what my role in these proceedings would be, but apparently while my presence was required, my counsel was not. Several people came forth and stated their cases, which tended to be simple enough disputes over land ownership, or claims of grievances in various business dealings. Kadar listened to all the parties involved, asked more cogent questions than I had expected, and in all cases but one delivered the same judgment I would have given — had I been asked.
Not a figurehead? I thought, considering my current role as a silent observer. Perhaps he and I have different definitions of the term…
But then two men approached, one in the simply cut doublet and high boots that seemed to be the standard male garb in North Eredor, the other in a long tunic of a style that had been out of fashion even in the South for at least a decade. He had mid-brown hair and eyes, and was not as tall as most Northern men.
The Northerner bowed to Kadar and said, “Your Highness, I did not wish to approach you with such a petty matter, but the other party involved has proved so intractable that I had no choice but to bring my case to the Hall of Grievances.”
Kadar nodded. “Go on.”
“Highness, this man and I entered into a business dealing, but he has conspired to cheat me at every turn. Now I only wish to recoup my original investment, but he will not allow me even that much satisfaction.”
During this speech the man in the tunic had remained silent, but his brow had twisted and an expression of angry bewilderment crossed his features. Finally he
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