Dave Duncan – Faery Lands Forlorn – A Man of his Word. Book 2

Having expertly appraised her and allowed her a chance—however inadequate—to admire him, Azak bowed again. “Your Majesty is an honored guest in this, the humble house of my fathers. If anything at all is lacking to make your stay more enjoyable, your Majesty’s whims command the nation.” Without waiting for a reply, he bowed to Kade. “And your Royal Highness, also.”

Kade curtsied, while Inos struggled with her anger—and lost. Rashness won over caution. If this troll-size savage required his followers to suffer petrification just to soothe his bruised arrogance, then he obviously put a very high value on courage, and Inos was not going to be outdone in that, despite Rasha’s warnings. A brief sojourn as a statue might be a restful experience anyway.

“We are deeply honored by this opportunity to visit with—” She took a deep breath. “—our cousin of Arakkaran.”

Kade uttered a small cry of alarm, but nothing occult transpired. The royal courtesy had been too subtle for the curse to detect. Azak had noticed, though. His eyes widened, and something like a small smile flexed his beard.

With her heart still thumping madly, Inos pushed her luck a little farther. ”And we welcome the chance to view the beautiful kingdom of Arakkaran . . . blessed with so noble a ruler.”

This time even the mob of lackeys caught the circumlocution. Glances were exchanged, lips pursed. Azak beamed and bowed again, lower than ever.

“Your Majesty is most gracious!”

Her Majesty was quivering with terror at what might have happened, but was determined not to show it. “I trust that you have fully recovered from your ordeal, Cousin?”

Azak’s eyes glinted again, but he faked bewilderment. “Ordeal, Cousin?”

“Two days ago? When we first met, you seemed to be smitten quite severely for a while. An agonizing experience, I think?”

“Ah, yes!” He waved a large hand dismissively. “The slut sorceress seeks to break my will with mere physical pain. She should know by now that the effort is wasted.”

Inos displayed shock. “It has happened before?”

Azak shrugged, but his face was bright with pleasure at this opportunity to inform his followers about the incident. “Many times. Pain is nothing. She also inflicts plagues upon me: vermin or suppurating sores, disabilities in major organs. I have been struck blind, crippled . . . I expect she will learn in time that no prince of Arakkaran can be swayed from his duty by such trivia. ”

Uneasy expressions flitted over the faces of those princes of Arakkaran then present.

“But what can she hope to gain by such atrocities?” Inos exclaimed.

Another shrug. “Voluntary recognition of her ludicrous claim to an unmerited title. I will not submit if she chars my bones. But now, if there is nothing more that your Majesty requires at the moment . . .”

But there was! This futile little ceremony was all a fake, a game that Azak had accepted to suggest Inos was his guest and not Rasha’s. Inos had played along for him, so now it was his turn.

“Well . . .”

“Yes?” Azak stopped halfway into a bow.

“I am most eager to view some of this beautiful kingdom—” Just in time Inos stopped herself adding “of yours.” The narrowness of her escape took her breath away.

“Of course! A carriage and escort . . . some ladies of high station to accompany—”

She had already noted his high boots and drawn conclusions. “You are going riding, Cousin?”

Several hairy mouths behind him fell open in shock, and even Azak blinked. ”You ride?”

“I do. Is that surprising?”

“Peasant women ride donkeys, I suppose.”

“In the Impire ladies of the highest rank ride, many of them very well. And I could certainly use a little exercise right now.” Plus a long talk about sorcery and politics and running kingdoms and military campaigns and things.

Kade uttered a small moan. “I suppose if we do not actually—”

Inos turned to her and smiled sweetly. “No need for you to come with us, Aunt.”

“Inos! I . . .” Kade was shocked speechless.

“I am sure that I shall be perfectly safe in the company of . . . our cousin of Arakkaran. Is that not so, Cousin?” Azak’s hot eyes flickered from niece to aunt and back again. Inos hoped she was conveying challenge, not entreaty, but for the moment the sultan was obviously nonplussed.

“I shall be quite safe, Aunt. Surely you will not insult the . . . our royal cousin by implying otherwise?”

Kade stuttered, flushing.

Clearly Azak had other plans for his morning, but he was aware of his debt to Inos. He swallowed hard, the corners of his beard flexing cutely. “Of course I shall be delighted to escort your Majesty in person.” He was a terrible liar.

“Wonderful! Who else could better show a queen the kingdom?” Still Inos remained unpetrified—the curse was obtuse at detecting innuendoes. “If I may have about ten minutes to change? I hope that my riding garb has been cleaned . . .” She glanced around at Zana, who was quite boggle-eyed at the conversation, but who nodded in agreement. “Ten minutes, then?” Inos extended queenly fingers.

Azak shied backward as if she had stabbed him. For a moment his face showed something that Inos thought might be horror. She wondered what terrible offense against the customs of Zark could be represented by a lady offering her hand to be kissed. Then the huge young man jackknifed himself in another great bow.

He straightened with ill-concealed fury. “However long your Majesty requires . . . I am at your service always.”

Of course he was! Inos curtsied demurely, rewarded him with a last flutter of eyelashes, and departed in search of more suitable clothes without another glance at her aunt.

Ally-gathering was about to commence.

5

Inos took longer than the ten minutes she had promised. She took even longer than the thirty minutes she had planned, but eventually she was ready and was led down yet another staircase to where the sultan stood with arms folded and toe tapping. The delay had been caused mostly by the need to find someone who could braid up a lady’s hair—a rare art in Zark, apparently. Then Zana had insisted on waiting for a suitable cloak to arrive. Inos had protested that her riding habit alone would be much too warm for this climate and she wanted nothing more, only to be informed in firm, motherly tones that she must wear a cloak of dark material, loose and airy-not for warmth, but to keep off the sun. Wind and dust, also, but mainly sun.

Azak acknowledged Inos by folding himself in another acrobatic bow. She attempted to respond in kind—Ooof!—riding habits were not designed for such maneuvers. The princely gaze wandered arrogantly over her again in blatant appraisal. Then he presented the four companions who were all that remained of his earlier entourage. All four were princes with guttural-sounding names, but the relationships puzzled her. The eldest was one of Azak’s brothers, much older than he, thick-bodied and bushy-bearded.

She caught the name of the next—Prince Kar—and decided at once that she did not like his blandly penetrating smile. He was clean-shaven, another brother, yet still older than Azak.

The other two were uncles, identical downy-faced striplings about her own age, obviously twins. She made mental notes to have Kade disentangle the royal family of Arakkaran for her; Kade was a genius at such genealogical investigation. The laws of succession might be worth knowing, also, to explain how a reigning sultan could have older brothers.

The princes and their guest set out for the stables—a journey long enough in itself to have justified horses. Azak did not speak and he deliberately strode so fast that everyone else had to scamper along breathlessly at his side. Inos concluded peevishly that this young giant still had a lot of growing up to do.

And again there was an escort of hard-looking guards armed with enough weapons to furnish a military museum. Her father had walked alone anywhere in his kingdom, yet this so-arrogant juvenile sultan needed protection within his own palace!

When they emerged from the last arched doorway and struck out across open courtyard, Inos felt sunlight hit her like a falling roof. It took her breath away—it would melt horseshoes. She knew she had been rash; now she wondered if she had been crazy.

Even the grandeur of the palace had not prepared her for the magnificence of the stables, whose tiled roofs seemed to cover a small city. An ocean of silken paddock stretched off to faraway fences and trees shampooed in pink blossom. Above them the crenelations of the palace itself gleamed against the distant sea. Many men and animals were standing around in the open glare, waiting, but there was not a woman in sight. Probably these royal boors were finding her behavior shameless and outrageous.

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