‘The Atans are terribly impressed with size, you said.’
‘Well, it’s one of the things that impresses them,’ Stragen amended. ‘Then
why did Mirtai agree to marry Kring? Kring’s a good warrior, but he’s not
much taller than I am, and I’m still growing.’
‘It must be something else about him that impressed
her so much,’ Stragen shrugged. ‘What do you think it is?’
‘I haven’t got the faintest idea, Talen.’
‘He’s a poet,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘Maybe that’s it.’
‘That wouldn’t make that much difference to someone like Mirtai, would it?
She did slice two men open and then burn them alive, remember? She doesn’t
sound to me like the kind of girl who’d get all gushy about poetry.’
‘Don’t ask me, Talen,’ Stragen laughed. ‘I know a great
deal about the world, but I wouldn’t even try to make a guess about why any
woman chooses any given man. ‘Good thinking,’ Ulath murmured.
The city had been alerted to their approach by Engessa’s messengers, and
the royal party was met at the gate by a deputation of towering Atans in
formal attire, which in their culture meant the donning of unadorned,
anklelength cloaks of dark wool. In the midst of those giants stood a
short, golden-robed Tamul. The Tamul had silver-streaked hair and an urbane
expression. ‘What are we supposed to do?’ Kalten whispered to Oscagne. ‘Act
formal,’ Oscagne advised. ‘Atans adore formality. Ah, Norkan,’ he said to
the Tamul in the golden robe, ‘so good to see you again. Fontan sends his
best.’
‘How is the old rascal?’ Oscagne’s colleague replied. ‘Wrinkled, but he
still hasn’t lost his edge.’
‘i’m glad to hear it. Why are we speaking in Elenic?’
‘So that you can brief us all on local circumstances. How are things
here?’
‘Tense. Our children are a bit discontent. There’s turmoil afoot. We send
them to stamp it out, but it refuses to stay stamped. They resent that. You
know how they are.’
‘Oh my, yes. Has the emperors sister forgiven you yet?’ Norkan sighed.
‘Afraid not, old boy. I’m quite resigned to spending the rest of my career
here.’
‘You know how the people at court like to carry tales. Whatever possessed
you to make that remark? I’ll grant you that her Highness’ feet are a bit
oversized, but ‘big-footed cow’ was sort of indiscreet, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I was drunk and a little out of sorts. Better to be here in Atan than in
Matherion trying to evade her attentions. I have no desire to become a
member of the imperial family if it means that I’d have to trudge along
behind her as she clumps about the palace.’
‘Ah, well. What’s on the agenda here?’
‘Formality. Official greetings. Speeches. Ceremonies The usual nonsense.’
‘Good. Our friends from the west are a bit unbridled at times. They’re good
at formality, though. It’s when things become informal that they get into
trouble. May I”present the Queen of Elenia?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Oscagne said, ‘this is my old friend, Norkan. He’s the
imperial representative here in Atan, an able man who’s fallen on hard
times.’ Norkan bowed. ‘Your Majesty,’ he greeted Ehlana. ‘Your Excellency,’
she responded. Then she smiled. ‘Are her Highness’ feet really that big?’
she asked him slyly. ‘She skis with only the equipment God gave her, your
Majesty. I could bear that, I suppose, but she’s given’ to temper tantrums
when she doesn’t get her own way, and that sort of grates on my nerves.’ He
glanced at the huge, dark-cloaked Atans surrounding the’ carriage. ‘Might I
suggest that we proceed to what my children here refer to as the palace?
The king and queen await us there. Is your Majesty comfortable speaking in
public? A few remarks might be in order.’
‘i’m afraid I don’t speak Tamul, your Excellency.’
‘Perfectly all right, your Majesty. I’ll translate for you. You can say
anything that pops into your head. I’ll tidy it up for you as we go along.’
‘How very kind of you.’ There was only the faintest edge to her voice. ‘I
live but to serve, your Majesty.’
‘Remarkable, Norkan,’ Oscagne murmured. ‘How do you manage to put both
feet in your mouth at the same time?’
‘It’s a gift,’ Norkan shrugged.
King Androl of’ Atan was seven feet tall, and his wife, Queen Betuana was
only slightly shorter. They were very imposing. They wore golden helmets
instead of crowns, and their deep blue silk robes were open at the front,
revealing the fact that they were both heavily armed. They met the Queen of
Elenia and her entourage in the square outside the royal palace of Atan,
which was in actuality nothing more than their private dwelling. Atan
ceremonies, it appeared, were conducted out of doors. With the queen’s
carriage in the lead and her armed escort formed up behind, the visitors
rode at a slow and stately pace into the square. There were no cheers, no
fanfares, none of the artificial enthusiasm normally contrived for state
visitors. Atans showed respect by silence and immobility. Stragen
skillfully wheeled the carriage to a spot in front of the slightly raised
stone platform before the royal dwelling, and Sparhawk dismounted to offer
his queen a steel-encased forearm. Ehlana’s face was radiantly regal, and
her pleasure was clearly unfeigned. Though she occasionally spoke
slightingly of ceremonial functions, pretending to view them as tedious,
she truly loved ceremony. She took a deep satisfaction in formality.
Ambassador Oscagne approached the royal family of Atan, bowed and spoke at
some length in the flowing, musical language of all Tamuls. Mirtai stood
behind Ehlana, murmuring a running translation of his Excellency’s words.
Ehlana’s eyes were very bright, and there were two spots of heightened
colour on her alabaster cheeks, signs that said louder than words that she
was composing a speech. King Androl then spoke a rather brief greeting, and
Queen Betuana added her somewhat lengthier agreement. Sparhawk could not
hear Mirtai’s translation, so for all he knew the Atan king and queen were
discussing weather-conditions on the moon. Then Ehlana stepped forward,
paused for dramatic effect, and began to speak in a clear voice that could
be heard throughout the square. Ambassador Norkan stood at the side of the
stone platform and translated her words. ‘My dear brother and sister of
Atan,’ she began, ‘words cannot express my heartfelt joy at this meeting.’
Sparhawk knew his wife, and he knew that disclaimer to be fraudulent. Words
could express her feelings, and she would tell everybody in the square all
about them. ‘I come to this happy meeting from the world’s far end,’ she
went on, ‘and my heart was filled with anxiety as I sailed across the
wine-dark sea toward a foreign land peopled with strangers, but your
gracious words of friendly – even affectionate – greeting have erased my
childish fears, and I have learned here a lesson which I will carry all the
days of my life. There are no strangers in this world, my dear brother and
sister. There are only friends we have not yet met.’
‘She’s plagiarizing,’ Stragen murmured to Sparhawk. ‘She does that now and
then. When she finds a phrase she really likes, she sees no reason not to
expropriate it.’
‘My journey to Atan has been, of course, for state reasons. We of the
royal houses of the world are not free to do things for personal reasons as
others are.’ She gave the Atan king and queen a rueful little smile. ‘We
cannot even yawn without its being subjected to extensive diplomatic
analysis. No one ever considers the possibility that we might just be
sleepy.’ After Norkan translated that, King Androl actually smiled. ‘My
visit to Atan, however, does have a personal reason as well as an official
one,’ Ehlana continued. ‘I chanced some time ago upon a precious thing
which belongs to the Atan people, and I have come half-round the world to
return this treasure to you, though it is more dear to me than I can ever
say. Many, many years ago, an Atan child was lost. That child is the
treasure of which I spoke.’ She reached out and took Mirtai’s hand. ‘She is
my dear, dear friend, and I love her. The journey I have made here is as
nothing. Gladly would I have travelled twice as far – ten times as far for
the joy I now feel in re-uniting this precious Atan child with her
people.’ Stragen wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘She does it
to me every time, Sparhawk,’ he laughed, ‘every single time. I think she
could make rocks cry if she wanted to, and it always seems so simple.’
‘That’s part of her secret, Stragen.’ Ehlana was moving right along. ‘As
many of you may know, the Elene people have some faults – many faults,
‘though I blush to confess it. We have not treated your dear child well. An