Magical fire, a sign of shields meant to keep anything said in that room from being overheard, filled the corners and framed the door and portholes. Alanna the Lioness, the King’s Champion, was used to larger meeting places.Īt last every member of the Tortallan delegation was crammed into the small shipboard cabin. “If we don’t wrap this up soon, I will be only a ‘bit,’” complained the redheaded woman on Numair’s other side. “It’s only for a bit,” the girl, Daine, said encouragingly. The man they were making room for, the mage known as Numair Salmalín, saw their efforts and smiled. The dragon in her lap squeaked in protest, but wound her small body into a tighter ball. If I was you, Highness, I’d dust off my map of the tourist places and let her eat any way she wants.”Īt that moment the girl they discussed inched over as far on the bunk as she could, to give the man beside her a bit more room. The captain surveyed the docks through his glass. “So nice to have friends aboard,” replied the prince tartly. “I understand these northerners eat with their hands.” “Oh, that won’t be a problem,” said the captain, straight-faced. I’ll be lucky if she knows which fork to use.” She’s some commoner from the far north, it’s said. And Mithros only knows what her table manners are like.
She’ll probably want to visit all the tourist places and gawp at the sights. He wants me to squire her about when she isn’t healing birds or talking to scholars. That’s why I’m out here broiling, instead of my uncle’s ministers. And the university folk want to meet her dragon.” Anyway, as a goodwill gesture, King Jonathan has sent this girl to heal Uncle’s birds, if she can. “He can lose a battalion of soldiers in the Yamani Isles and never twitch, but the gods help us if one of his precious birds is off its feed.” “The world knows them birds are ill,” muttered the captain. “That’s nothin’ new,” remarked the captain. It’s said she has a magic bond with animals, that she can even take on animal shape.” “There’s a girl, coming with the Tortallans. “You know what it is?” asked the captain. Hands shaking, the prince returned the glass and made the Sign against evil on his own chest. No one cared to disturb that silent, attentive gathering of beasts. Everywhere-warehouse, wharf, ship-human movement had stopped. Looking down, Kaddar found something else: the pilings under the docks swarmed with rats. Cur or alley cat, noble pet or working rat catcher, they sat without a sound, eyes on the harbor. He saw the flash of bright ribbons, even gold and gem-encrusted collars. Not all were scruffy alley mongrels or mangy harbor cats. Kaddar spied dogs and cats, under apparent truce, on every inch of space available. “It ain’t just birds, Prince,” the captain remarked. They stared at the harbor without uttering a sound. Even ship rails sported a variety of feathered creatures. He found pelicans, birds of prey-on the highest, loneliest perches-songbirds, the gray-and-brown sparrows that lived in the city. On masts, ledges, gutters, and ropes they sat, watching the harbor. All around the waterfront, birds made use of every visible perch. The captain handed the prince his spyglass. He could speak to Kaddar with less formality than most, since he had taught the prince all that young man knew of boats and sailing. “Tired of broiling, Your Highness?” The man spoke without looking away from the commercial harbor outside the breakwater enclosing the imperial docks. He went to the captain, trying not to wince as too-long-inactive legs tingled. Bring me something to drink,” he ordered the slaves. He yelped, swatted the fly, got to his feet, and removed the crown. A stinging fly chose that moment to land on Kaddar’s arm. Looking about, the prince saw the captain, leaning on the rail, scowl and make the Sign against evil on his chest. Imperial dignity kept him in this unshaded chair, where a gold surface collected the sun to throw it back into his eyes. He shot a glare at the nobles and academics on hand to welcome the visitors: they could relax under the awnings. He had been waiting aboard the imperial galley since noon, wearing the panoply of his office as the day, hot for autumn, grew hotter. His Royal Highness Kaddar, prince of Siraj, duke of Yamut, count of Amar, first lord of the Imperium, heir apparent to His Most Serene Majesty Emperor Ozorne of Carthak, fanned himself and wished the Tortallans would dock.
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