The Crimson Crown by Cinda Williams Chima Page A

hallway. He could no longer hear voices funneling down the corridor.
    The hallway emptied into a large foyer, two stories tall. Massive walnut doors stood opposite the front door. They were shut tight.
    A nervous-looking servant in sword-and-flame High Wizard livery hurried forward to intercept Han. “I’m sorry, my lord, but the council is now in session and cannot be interrupted.” He motioned to a salon off the main foyer. “If you would care to wait in there, I will bring you refreshment. Some wine, perhaps?”
    “The council is already in session?” Han glanced up at the massive clock on the mantel in the salon. “Already? Isn’t it early?”
    The servant nodded. “Everyone had arrived, so Lord Bayar called the meeting to order.”
    “If the council is meeting, I should be in there,” Han said. “I’m Hanson Alister, the queen’s representative.”
    The servant blanched. “Lord Alister? But Lord Bayar said that you were not coming.” He raised both hands as if he thought Han might strike him dead on the spot.
    “What is your name?” Han asked the trembling man.
    “H—Hammersmith, my lord,” the servant said. “I assure you, had I known that—”
    “Don’t worry, Hammersmith.” Han patted the man on the shoulder, nearly giving him a seizure. “You’re not in any trouble. Lord Bayar didn’t know my plans had changed, that’s all. I’ll just go on in.”
    “B—b—but, the door, sir. It’s magicked. Anyone who enters risks—”
    “I believe I might have the key,” Han said. “Let’s just see.”
    Taking hold of his amulet, he used Crow’s charm to reveal the magic overlaying the door. It was familiar; Crow had taught him the countercharm at Oden’s Ford.
    “I can handle this.” Han disabled the charm and stood aside. “Would you announce me, please?”
    Hammersmith approached the door as one might a dud firework. Gingerly, he tugged it open a crack, sweat pebbling his forehead. Then smiled back at Han when nothing exploded.
    Throwing the doors wide, he stepped forward and called out in a carrying voice, “Lord Hanson Alister, representing Her Majesty, Queen Raisa ana ’Marianna.”
    Han walked through the doorway. Heads turned all around the room.
    It was a plush space, for sure. One entire wall was glass, overlooking the Vale and the city of Fellsmarch. Banners of the wizard houses hung on the other three walls.
    The scene was oddly festive yet funereal. Fancy food and drink were laid out on a sideboard, and ornate chairs with carved arms ringed a massive walnut table. Black candles sputtered in candelabras the length of the table, and those seated around the perimeter wore grim, solemn expressions. Black ribbons decorated their amulets.
    Two chairs stood vacant. One was wrapped with black crepe. For one wild moment, Han thought perhaps this memorial was for him, that his death had already been announced.
    But then he recalled that nobody here would mourn him, except, perhaps, Abelard.
    Lord Bayar sat on a slightly raised dais at one end of the table, a stack of documents in front of him. When he laid eyes on Han, his dark brows drew together in surprise and annoyance.
    I wasn’t supposed to make it here, Han thought. So where was the ambush meant to happen? Somewhere along the road? or before I even left town?
    Dean Abelard sat to Lord Bayar’s right, looking glum. When she saw Han, she straightened, shifting her eyes to Bayar as if to capture his reaction. Then she sat back in her chair, her fingers beating a triumphant staccato on the table.
    Guess she wasn’t all that confident in me, Han thought.
    Micah Bayar sat across the table from her, to his father’s left, eyeing Han with an expression of resigned contempt. He didn’t look surprised. Either he hadn’t known about the plan to ambush Han, or he’d anticipated that Han would somehow evade it.
    Adam Gryphon occupied the seat nearest the door, a bemused expression on his face. Han’s former teacher seemed thinner