The Eagle & the Nightingales: Bardic Voices, Book III by Mercedes Lackey Page B

surprised?
    The doors closed behind them, silently, and the Haspur noted larger versions of the Deliambren lighting that Harperus employed in his coach hanging from the ceiling, encased in ornate structures of glass and gold. There were probably hundreds more examples of Deliambren wonders here, but none of them would be of the type that could be taken apart without destroying them.
    Well, no matter what the Church says about the “evil magic” of those who are not human, past High Kings have not scrupled to buy and use our devices. T’fyrr grimaced. No matter what happens, I would place a high wager that they would continue to use such things, even in the face of a Church declaration of Anathema. The Church would either look the other way, or the High King would pay the fine and continue to have his lighting and his self-opening doors.
    The High King would be able to afford whatever fine the Church levied without even thinking about it; T’fyrr knew, after traveling so long with Harperus, just how much that lighting, those doors, probably cost. Nor was the display of wealth limited to the nonhuman devices so prominently displayed and used. Of course, the money came from somewhere, and T’fyrr’s mind played out an image of the human hive they had come through.
    They followed down a hallway paved in polished marble with matching marble paneling. Graceful designs had been incised into the marble of the walls and gold wire inlaid in the grooves. At intervals, along the wall and beneath the lighting, where they were displayed at their best advantage, were graceful sculptures of humans and animals, also of marble with details of gold inlay. Between the sculptures stood small marble tables, topped with vases made of semiprecious jade, malachite and carnelian. The vases were filled with bouquets, not of fresh flowers, but of flowers made of precious stones and gold and silver wire.
    T’fyrr could not even begin to calculate the cost of all of this. Surely just one of those flowers would keep a commoner out in Lyonarie fed and clothed for a year!
    The page led them to a pair of gold-inlaid, bronze doors, each a work of art in itself, depicting more humans—though for once, these were not in conflict, but gathered for some purpose. The doors swung open, and the boy waved them in.
    “They’ll have brought your name to the Presiding Herald,” the boy whispered as T’fyrr caught sight of a jewel-bedecked throng just inside the door. “He’ll add you to the list; just listen for him to announce you, and then present yourself to His Majesty.”
    “Thank you,” Harperus said gravely. The boy bobbed an abrupt little bow, and hurried off; Harperus strode between those open doors as if he had every right to be there, and T’fyrr moved in his wake, like a silent, winged shadow.
    He had not donned all of the finery that Harperus had wanted him to put on—a huge, gemmed pectoral collar, ankle-bracelets, armbands and wristbands, a dusting of gold powder for his wings. Now he was glad that he had not. Not only had the wrist and armbands and bracelets felt far too much like fetters, but T’fyrr was certain that he would only have looked ridiculous in the borrowed gear, as if he was trying to ape these jeweled and painted humans, who were oh-so-carefully not staring at the nonhumans in their midst. There did not appear to be any other nonhuman creatures in this room, although it was difficult to be certain of that. They could have been crammed up against the white marble walls—that, evidently, was the place where those of little importance were relegated. The magic circle of ultimate status was just before the throne, within earshot of everything that went on upon the dais. Harperus strolled toward that hallowed ground quite as if he had a place reserved for him there, and to T’fyrr’s amazement, the haughty courtiers gave way before him.
    Perhaps they are frightened by his costume!
    The nearer they got to the throne, the more