held out his hand for the bow, then met Halt’s eyes. He saw something very dangerous there and he actually flinched.
“All right, all right. Keep it if you must,” he muttered. He backed away, more than a little flustered, retreating behind the secure bulk of his desk. Halt opened the door for Alyss, then followed her as she entered the office.
Montague of Cobram was seated at a large oaken table that served as a desk. He was studying a letter and didn’t look up from it as Alyss approached. Halt was willing to bet that the letter was about something totally unimportant. The man was playing silly mind games, he thought.
But Alyss was up to the challenge. She stepped forward and produced a heavy scroll from her sleeve, slapping it briskly down on the table before Montague. He started in surprise, looking up. Halt hid a smile.
“Alyss Mainwaring, Sir Montague, Courier from Redmont Castle. My credentials.”
Montague wasn’t just an oaf, Halt thought. He was a fop as well. His satin doublet was formed in alternating quarters of scarlet and gold. His reddish blond hair was left in overlong curls, framing a somewhat chubby face with slightly bulging blue eyes and a petulant mouth. He was of average height, but of some what more than average weight. He would be passably handsome, Halt supposed, if he could shed a few kilos in weight, but the man obviously liked to indulge himself. He recovered now from his momentary surprise and leaned back in his chair, adopting a languid, slightly disapproving tone.
“Good heavens, girl, you can’t come in here throwing your credentials on the desk like that! Don’t they teach good manners at Redmont Castle these days?”
He looked distastefully at the scroll and shoved it to one side.
“They teach protocol, Sir Montague,” Alyss replied, very evenly. “And it requires that you examine and acknowledge my credentials before we proceed.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Montague said, waving a dismissive hand at the scroll. “Take it as read. Take it as read. Now, girl, what brings you here?”
Halt interjected quietly, “The correct form of address, Sir Montague, is ‘Lady Alyss.’”
Montague looked at Halt in genuine surprise, as if he considered him some lower form of life who lacked the ability of speech.
“Is that so, forester?” he said. “And what might your name be?”
Alyss went to speak, but a warning glance from Halt stopped her. He replied, still in the same quiet tone: “Some people call me Arratay, Sir Montague. It’s Gallican,” he added mildly.
Montague raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Gallican, you say? How exotic! Well, Master Arratay, perhaps you could leave the talking to me and young Alyss here, would that suit you?”
Halt shrugged and Montague took the movement for assent.
“Wonderful.” Then, dismissing Halt, he turned his attention back to Alyss. “So, sweetheart, what do you have for me? A letter perhaps? Some self-important note from Fat Baron Arald, I’ll be bound?”
There were two small spots of color in Alyss’s cheeks, the only outward sign of the anger that was building up inside her at the man’s offhanded manner. She produced Nigel’s heavy linen envelope from the satchel she wore at her side and offered it across the desk.
“I have an official legal position, prepared under Baron Arald’s seal. He requests that you study it.”
Montague made no move to take the letter.
“Set it down. I’ll look at it when I have time.”
“The Baron requests that you look at it now, sir. And give me your answer.”
Montague rolled his eyes to heaven and took the envelope. “Oh, very well, if it will make you happy.” He sliced the envelope and took out the sheet of parchment inside it, skimming through it, muttering to himself, “Yes…yes…seen it…heard it before…nonsense…rubbish…nonsense.”
He set the page down and pushed it away from him, shaking his head wearily.
“When will you people learn? You can send
“All right, all right. Keep it if you must,” he muttered. He backed away, more than a little flustered, retreating behind the secure bulk of his desk. Halt opened the door for Alyss, then followed her as she entered the office.
Montague of Cobram was seated at a large oaken table that served as a desk. He was studying a letter and didn’t look up from it as Alyss approached. Halt was willing to bet that the letter was about something totally unimportant. The man was playing silly mind games, he thought.
But Alyss was up to the challenge. She stepped forward and produced a heavy scroll from her sleeve, slapping it briskly down on the table before Montague. He started in surprise, looking up. Halt hid a smile.
“Alyss Mainwaring, Sir Montague, Courier from Redmont Castle. My credentials.”
Montague wasn’t just an oaf, Halt thought. He was a fop as well. His satin doublet was formed in alternating quarters of scarlet and gold. His reddish blond hair was left in overlong curls, framing a somewhat chubby face with slightly bulging blue eyes and a petulant mouth. He was of average height, but of some what more than average weight. He would be passably handsome, Halt supposed, if he could shed a few kilos in weight, but the man obviously liked to indulge himself. He recovered now from his momentary surprise and leaned back in his chair, adopting a languid, slightly disapproving tone.
“Good heavens, girl, you can’t come in here throwing your credentials on the desk like that! Don’t they teach good manners at Redmont Castle these days?”
He looked distastefully at the scroll and shoved it to one side.
“They teach protocol, Sir Montague,” Alyss replied, very evenly. “And it requires that you examine and acknowledge my credentials before we proceed.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Montague said, waving a dismissive hand at the scroll. “Take it as read. Take it as read. Now, girl, what brings you here?”
Halt interjected quietly, “The correct form of address, Sir Montague, is ‘Lady Alyss.’”
Montague looked at Halt in genuine surprise, as if he considered him some lower form of life who lacked the ability of speech.
“Is that so, forester?” he said. “And what might your name be?”
Alyss went to speak, but a warning glance from Halt stopped her. He replied, still in the same quiet tone: “Some people call me Arratay, Sir Montague. It’s Gallican,” he added mildly.
Montague raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Gallican, you say? How exotic! Well, Master Arratay, perhaps you could leave the talking to me and young Alyss here, would that suit you?”
Halt shrugged and Montague took the movement for assent.
“Wonderful.” Then, dismissing Halt, he turned his attention back to Alyss. “So, sweetheart, what do you have for me? A letter perhaps? Some self-important note from Fat Baron Arald, I’ll be bound?”
There were two small spots of color in Alyss’s cheeks, the only outward sign of the anger that was building up inside her at the man’s offhanded manner. She produced Nigel’s heavy linen envelope from the satchel she wore at her side and offered it across the desk.
“I have an official legal position, prepared under Baron Arald’s seal. He requests that you study it.”
Montague made no move to take the letter.
“Set it down. I’ll look at it when I have time.”
“The Baron requests that you look at it now, sir. And give me your answer.”
Montague rolled his eyes to heaven and took the envelope. “Oh, very well, if it will make you happy.” He sliced the envelope and took out the sheet of parchment inside it, skimming through it, muttering to himself, “Yes…yes…seen it…heard it before…nonsense…rubbish…nonsense.”
He set the page down and pushed it away from him, shaking his head wearily.
“When will you people learn? You can send
Similar Books
