smile returned. He pointed his rejected hand at the heavy gate to the inner drawbridge.
“This way if you please; the chatra will receive you. Guard, take these men to the captain inside.”
The sergeant’s sticky, appeasing tone chilled Saxthor.
Chatra is the title granted to a sovereign court’s primary minister, he thought. This would-be chatra presumes a lot taking the title at a noble’s court.
The three bowed minimally to the sergeant, to show contempt but observe formality. The guard led the men over the moat to the Captain of the Guard in the foremost tower of the castilyernov’s outer bailey. The captain, a man of higher rank and distinction, took the guard’s form and, without a word, led the men through the outer bailey’s towers and corridors to the inner moat bridge. He gave a formal bow.
“The chamberlain standing by the bridge there will escort you into the chatra’s presence.” Again, he bowed, turned, and left.
Tournak and Bodrin bowed but not Saxthor.
The chamberlain was a thin man, who, like the captain, said nothing. Guards escorted the petitioners across the well-guarded inner moat’s bridge to the much more sumptuous reception hall in the inner bailey’s Reception Tower.
“In the past, the prince formerly received common petitioners in the outer bailey reception hall; this room was restricted to nobility,” Tournak said. “The outer gallery, as you saw, was stripped bare, and here they’ve removed the throne. I wonder where the prince receives his petitioners now.”
“Doesn’t look like he receives them,” Bodrin said.
“The chatra now receives petitioners in his reception hall,” the chamberlain said. “This way, please.” At the chatra’s reception hall, he asked the petitioner’s names in a whisper. Then he announced Tournak to the high official, bowed, and stood back.
Tournak, Saxthor, and Bodrin crossed the hall and stopped short before the raised dais and the man seated on the prince’s throne.
The chatra receives petitioners as though he were the prince himself, Saxthor thought. What has occurred here that a minister would assume the prince’s place and functions?
“Greetings to the Chatra of Hoya from the court at Neuyokkasin,” Tournak said with a sweeping bow to acknowledge the man’s status.
The man on the throne was of modest statue, thin and hungry looking, with a stringy lock of hair on his chin beneath his scraggly mustache. The man had the unmistakable slick look of an upstart who rose too quickly to power, not from competence, but by ingratiating himself to the right people. As the absurd pomp surrounding him demonstrated, the chatra himself was the most impressed with his status.
“We thank you for your greetings, gentlemen. Are you emissaries from the queen?” The chatra presented a quivering smile. “We see you’re still in your traveling clothes.”
Like the sergeant at the guardhouse, he hoped to avoid offending the wrong people without failing to please the right ones. The delicacy of his question suggested he hoped to ingratiate himself with higher authority. Saxthor also noted the minister used the royal “we,” as though he were the ruler here.
“We thank you for your greeting. We seek audience with the prince,” Tournak said in the polite tone of court diplomacy without answering the inquiry as to their relationship to the queen.
“Do you represent the queen?”
“We’re here to see Prince Henri.”
The chatra’s smile faded. He called the chamberlain to him and whispered, but Saxthor heard what he said.
“Have I been duped? You know I don’t receive ordinary petitioners.”
The chamberlain looked at Saxthor’s group, nodded, and smiled, but said nothing. He went back to the doorway at the entrance to the hall. Saxthor watched the chatra’s face crinkling as he wondered what their connection was to the Konnotan court.
“The prince is indisposed and isn’t receiving petitions today. The chamberlain will see
“This way if you please; the chatra will receive you. Guard, take these men to the captain inside.”
The sergeant’s sticky, appeasing tone chilled Saxthor.
Chatra is the title granted to a sovereign court’s primary minister, he thought. This would-be chatra presumes a lot taking the title at a noble’s court.
The three bowed minimally to the sergeant, to show contempt but observe formality. The guard led the men over the moat to the Captain of the Guard in the foremost tower of the castilyernov’s outer bailey. The captain, a man of higher rank and distinction, took the guard’s form and, without a word, led the men through the outer bailey’s towers and corridors to the inner moat bridge. He gave a formal bow.
“The chamberlain standing by the bridge there will escort you into the chatra’s presence.” Again, he bowed, turned, and left.
Tournak and Bodrin bowed but not Saxthor.
The chamberlain was a thin man, who, like the captain, said nothing. Guards escorted the petitioners across the well-guarded inner moat’s bridge to the much more sumptuous reception hall in the inner bailey’s Reception Tower.
“In the past, the prince formerly received common petitioners in the outer bailey reception hall; this room was restricted to nobility,” Tournak said. “The outer gallery, as you saw, was stripped bare, and here they’ve removed the throne. I wonder where the prince receives his petitioners now.”
“Doesn’t look like he receives them,” Bodrin said.
“The chatra now receives petitioners in his reception hall,” the chamberlain said. “This way, please.” At the chatra’s reception hall, he asked the petitioner’s names in a whisper. Then he announced Tournak to the high official, bowed, and stood back.
Tournak, Saxthor, and Bodrin crossed the hall and stopped short before the raised dais and the man seated on the prince’s throne.
The chatra receives petitioners as though he were the prince himself, Saxthor thought. What has occurred here that a minister would assume the prince’s place and functions?
“Greetings to the Chatra of Hoya from the court at Neuyokkasin,” Tournak said with a sweeping bow to acknowledge the man’s status.
The man on the throne was of modest statue, thin and hungry looking, with a stringy lock of hair on his chin beneath his scraggly mustache. The man had the unmistakable slick look of an upstart who rose too quickly to power, not from competence, but by ingratiating himself to the right people. As the absurd pomp surrounding him demonstrated, the chatra himself was the most impressed with his status.
“We thank you for your greetings, gentlemen. Are you emissaries from the queen?” The chatra presented a quivering smile. “We see you’re still in your traveling clothes.”
Like the sergeant at the guardhouse, he hoped to avoid offending the wrong people without failing to please the right ones. The delicacy of his question suggested he hoped to ingratiate himself with higher authority. Saxthor also noted the minister used the royal “we,” as though he were the ruler here.
“We thank you for your greeting. We seek audience with the prince,” Tournak said in the polite tone of court diplomacy without answering the inquiry as to their relationship to the queen.
“Do you represent the queen?”
“We’re here to see Prince Henri.”
The chatra’s smile faded. He called the chamberlain to him and whispered, but Saxthor heard what he said.
“Have I been duped? You know I don’t receive ordinary petitioners.”
The chamberlain looked at Saxthor’s group, nodded, and smiled, but said nothing. He went back to the doorway at the entrance to the hall. Saxthor watched the chatra’s face crinkling as he wondered what their connection was to the Konnotan court.
“The prince is indisposed and isn’t receiving petitions today. The chamberlain will see
Similar Books
