Glasswrights' Master by Mindy L Klasky Page A

tells me what she’s doing here, though, Tovin Player. Or what she was doing in my forest.”
    Tovin smiled easily. “We were to meet–”
    â€œSilence, Player.” The king’s tone was mild, but there was no mistaking the royal command. “I’d like to hear the explanation from Varna herself.”
    Rani stepped forward and cleared her throat, wishing that her hands were free, that her shoulders were eased so that she could speak without the distraction of that burning pain. “We were to meet, Your Majesty. My caravan and the players.” She warmed to her story when she was not cut off immediately. “I am a tinker by trade, and I’d hoped to discover new riches to offer in the Morenian marketplace. Tovin Player had already come south to work with his troop. I hoped that he would make contacts for me, discover sources for goods that I could bring up to Morenia and sell at a profit in the marketplace.”
    â€œThe men who travel with you hardly look like merchants.”
    Rani nodded agreement. “They’re not, Your Majesty. It’s a long road between here and Morenia. I hoped to protect my riches against any who would attack me on the road.”
    â€œMy men found no trade goods with you. We found no evidence of your … caravan.”
    â€œNo, Your Majesty. We’ve made no purchases yet. We only just arrived in Sarmonia, two days, no, three days past. We were waiting to make contact with Tovin Player.”
    â€œThen you should have wealth with you. What did you expect to trade for Sarmonian goods?”
    What indeed. Rani’s story was unraveling like a lie told to a parent. She had no wares with her. She had no trinkets. She did not even have a stash of coins. Before she could weave another chapter from thin, desperate air, Puladarati stepped forward. “We travel with drafts from King Halaravilli ben-Jair, Your Majesty.”
    King Hamid narrowed his eyes even more than his customary squint. “Is this true, Madam Tinker? You bear scrip from the king of Moren?”
    Rani forbade herself to look at that king, even to look at Tovin Player. She must answer earnestly; her future depended on her ability to play her role. “Aye, Your Majesty. We have the honor of providing cooking wares to the royal kitchens. We left Moren just before the summer silk auction, and the king gave us signed drafts to cover our debts here in Sarmonia.”
    â€œShow me one of these drafts.”
    Rani gave Puladarati a tight nod. The duke, in turn, shrugged his massive shoulders expressively. “Your Majesty?” he said to King Hamid.
    â€œUntie him,” the Sarmonian commanded. “But keep a close watch.”
    The guard complied, and Rani read volumes into the man’s motions. He might have been proud of capturing his prisoners out in the woods. He might have believed that he served his lord well, gathering up intruders. But now he was disarmed by Rani’s explanations; he had clearly decided that the ragtag group of northerners was innocent, safe, no threat at all to Sarmonia.
    As if to foster that belief, Puladarati made a show of moving slowly after his hands were freed. He reached for his saddle bags as if he were an ancient man, taking time to uncinch the buckle, open the flap, shift his possessions with care.
    The old retainer’s game worked. His guard relaxed even more when they saw nothing to alarm them in the satchel. Rather, Puladarati produced a handful of scrolls, each sealed with Hal’s crimson wax.
    King Hamid broke the sigil on the first one himself, and he scanned the words with casual negligence. Whatever was written there clearly matched Rani’s story; she appeared to have royal drafts to underwrite her supposed merchant trip. “Very well, Madam Tinker. These papers support your words. Nevertheless, you had no royal charter to be in the woods.”
    â€œI did not know–” Rani started to plead,