Glasswrights' Master by Mindy L Klasky Page B

but she was interrupted by Tovin.
    â€œPlease, Your Majesty. Varna did not know the laws in Sarmonia. She is a simple tinker, not a diplomat wise in the ways of foreign courts. She did not think to challenge your authority. How could she, with a serving girl,” he gestured toward Mair, “and an aged accounts-man?” Tovin’s hand included Davin, deprecating the so-called merchant caravan with a shrug. “They are hardly an invading enemy force.”
    â€œAnd yet, they are. She and her companions had no business in the clearing.”
    Tovin smiled easily; he might have been discussing sweetmeats at a feast. “Your Majesty, their business was to be with me. Perhaps they were confused about our meeting place. After all, Sire, you gave permission to all my players to use the Great Clearing. Certainly, one small merchant party could not cause more disruption at a lesser place in the woods.”
    Rani heard the camaraderie in Tovin’s voice, the casual manner in which he addressed the king. She had seen this side of the player before; she had watched him melt into courts as readily as if he were noble-born. He could play a Touched man as well, she knew, or a merchant, a guildsman. Rani did not trust Tovin for one instant, not when he smiled that easy smile, not when he tossed his chestnut curls back from his face.
    â€œTovin Player, you would make me break my own rules.”
    â€œYour Majesty, I would merely have you stretch them. You have granted a charter to me and my players. Surely it is only logical to extend that charter to my sponsor.”
    King Hamid stared at the player for a long minute, then cast his eyes over Rani’s companions. He counted out the soldiers, but his attention merely brushed over those he considered too old or too unimportant to recognize–Davin, Mair, Hal himself. At last, the Sarmonian sighed. “Very well, Tovin Player. You plead your case well. Your charter covers your sponsor.”
    Tovin bowed his head and muttered thanks. King Hamid ignored the words, saying, “You have inconvenienced me, though. For that, I should be recompensed. I will expect your players to attend my supper this evening, in my private apartments. A short piece, a comedy, I believe. That will help me to forget all this bother.”
    â€œOf course, Your Majesty. I know just the selection. In fact, if you have time after you hear the other matters of your court, we could Speak of it before you retire for the afternoon.”
    â€œSpeak of it.…” King Hamid repeated the words, and Rani read the thirst in his
narrow eyes. The king had already had occasion to meet with Tovin, then; he had already been lured
into the quiet depths of the players’ Speaking. Rani could not blame King Hamid for the gleam in his
eyes; she herself craved the power of the secret places where Tovin could lead her. Even now, even
here, in the dangerous southern receiving hall, Rani could recall the strange power that the player
held over her, his awesome ability to take her deep into her own thoughts, into her own pasts, into
memories so distant that she could not consciously remember them. She remembered the peace that she
had found in the Speaking, and the power and the strength. “Yes,” the king said, as if he were
shaking himself awake from a dream. “We will Speak later this afternoon. Until then, take your
sponsor and leave us to our work.”
    The king waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, and Rani found herself being rushed from the hall. Only when they were back in the courtyard under the late summer sun, did the guards see fit to loosen their prisoners’ bonds. Rani bit back tart words as the blood began to flow into her fingertips.
    Hal’s men did not bother to smother their comments; most of them swore at the discomfort. None was so foolish, though, as to comment on the charade they had just witnessed. Tovin merely glanced at the Morenians as if he were