The Black Swan by Mercedes Lackey Page B

court attracted the attention of the Emperor, there could be state visits, invitations to the Imperial functions, and even (dare she think it?) the personal attentions of the widowed Emperor himself.
    A page entered the weaving room, interrupting her reverie. He looked around for her, then hurried to her side. “Your Majesty, the minstrel Uwe has returned—and there is a nobleman with him,” the cherubic child said breathlessly, his blue eyes wide and ingenuous. “The nobleman would like an audience with you, that is, he respectfully requests an audience of you.”
    Uwe—with a stranger? That piqued her interest. She had sent him off on a mission to find appropriate candidates for Siegfried’s bride—but what else had he found?
    â€œWho is this nobleman?” she asked the boy, not quite ready to commit to an immediate meeting. She didn’t want the stranger to have the impression that the Queen had so little to occupy her that she could give a stranger an immediate hearing—but on the other hand, she didn’t want to offend a powerful man who might be of use to her.
    â€œBaron von Rothbart, Majesty,” the boy replied. “Uwe said to tell you he has much to interest you regarding the errand you sent him on.”
    Indeed? That settled it. “I will see them in the Lesser Audience Chamber,” she told the boy. “Take your time in guiding them there, however.”
    The page took her at her word, and left the room at a leisurely walk. Clothilde signaled to one of her maids to pick up the train of her gown and moved briskly to the room she had designated to the page, giving orders to the rest of the servants who accompanied her as she walked.
    The Lesser Audience Chamber was just off the Great Hall, through which the visitor would be conducted in order to reach it, giving him an eyeful of Clothilde’s improvements. He should be even more impressed when he reached the chamber itself; it was the “lesser” chamber only in terms of size, not of luxury and sumptuousness. The obvious fact that it was easier and less expensive to create the impression of wealth in a small room rather than a large one was often overlooked by visitors.
    Meant to receive parties of four or less, the room had plastered walls for warmth, covered with floor-to-ceiling hangings so that not an inch of plaster showed. At the moment, only two of the walls had tapestries instead of the draping curtains of an arras; that would be remedied as the new looms produced more work. The only break was a single window, curtained in heavy wool; the curtains were pulled back, displaying the fact that the window was not only glazed, it had a picture in colored glass, just like the one in the chapel, but portraying a sun-in-glory surrounded by stars.
    The throne, carved with all the considerable skill of a master joiner, had been overlaid with gold leaf last year, and cushioned in plush. Perhaps it was not of marble, but it was more comfortable, and impressive enough. Clothilde arranged herself in the throne with the help of her handmaiden; a servant summoned by another lady-in-waiting came hastily to learn her bidding, and she sent him off for wine and cakes for the visitor. The sideboard was already laid with a snowy linen cloth, with silver goblets enough waiting, and there were two chairs at the opposite side of the room should she choose to allow her visitor to seat himself in her presence.
    The servant arrived just before the two men, and waited at the sideboard beneath the window as they appeared. Uwe preceded the stranger, fell immediately to one knee before Clothilde’s throne, and made a deep bow to her, exciting a profound sense of pleasure in her at this sign of his servility. Minstrels were notoriously arrogant. That Uwe should abase himself spoke much for her power, and she knew that this stranger would be aware of that.
    Uwe spoke in humble tones, without raising his eyes. “Your