From within his pillow-stuffed brown tunic the disguised prince slid a tiny, beautifully carven box. He set it on the desk and opened it to reveal a single pearl. As if ritually, Strick only touched it. And looked expec- tant.
With obvious misgivings and distaste for the concoction Strick had been at pains to make unpleasant in appearance, odor, and flavor, Prince Kadakithis drank it down. All of it, without lowering the cup. The man did know, Strick mused, how to take medicine!
Lowering the drained goblet, Kadakithis shook his head. “And people think it’s easy being a royal! By all gods, Strick, what’s in that stuff!”
“Nothing to harm you, lord Prince. A secret formula I have of a Zimmanabuniga wizard far to the west.”
With hands on the lean blond’s shoulders, Strick told him that he was decisive, charismatic, and had no need to lack confidence, “for charisma and more importantly your intelligence will carry you through, to the benefit of Sanctuary. You must think much on this, particularly before sleep and before rising.”
The Rankan Prince-Governor of Sanctuary stood and gripped the far bigger man’s hand. Strick noted that the young man stood more erect than when he had entered. For a few moments they stood gazing into each other’s eyes. Then Kadakithis swung, drew his hooded cloak again about himself and his padded tunic, and left. With, Strick noted, a firmer and more confident tread than when he had entered.
Strick sighed. Charlatan, he grumbled at himself, hardly for the first time. That handsome young man was already charismatic and decisive! It’s just that now he Believes!