She didn’t doubt that Sarkia’s new foreign policy would work as intended. It had its drawbacks, compared to the old: There were more commitments, not all of them fully compatible. But it would soon rebuild the Sisterhood’s status and influence.
Meanwhile they’d enjoy the more agreeable aspects of the mission. She chuckled. Especially Idri, she told herself. Idri’s role was perfect for her.
Gurtho had seen Sisters twice before, when his father was king and he’d been a child, once at age six or eight, and again at eleven or twelve. The first pair had seemed to him very beautiful, the other pair merely good looking. Which kind would these be?
We’ll soon see, he thought. Six of them! To his casual half-comment, half-question, the evening before, their courier had answered that they were “quite beautiful,” a generality that only fueled his imagination.
Meanwhile he was edgy. He’d heard about the rape at Ferny Cove, had been excited by it. He’d also heard Sisters described as untouchable, and wondered if he’d dare. Certainly their influence had been reduced, and their army as well.
But what of their magicks? What revenge might they take if he molested one of them? True there were those who said their powers were trivial, but others swore they were deadly. And what the ylver could get away with, and what he could get away with, might be very different.
He knew what his father would say, had heard it more than once: “Never decide with your testicles, boy. That’s what brains are for. Base your decisions on the power and money they’ll bring. Power and money! Always! With power and money, you can buy whatever you want, including beautiful women. And property, when you’re tired of it, can be sold or traded, or given as political gifts. Or killed, if it suits you.”
Gurtho had taken the advice to heart. An actual wife was necessary to provide an undisputed heir. Which he now had, along with younger backups, in case the first died or proved unsuitable. But he’d bought his bride, rather than marry politically or in passion. To satisfy his gluttony for women—beyond ladies of the court—there were tax girls. Those he got pregnant he had killed. The others, when he tired of them, he sold, perhaps after loaning them to one of his officers as a sign of the Royal Favor.
Word of the embassy’s arrival was brought by the captain of the envoy’s guard, ushered in by Rogell, the palace chief of protocol. The envoy, the captain said, was tired from her ride. At her request, the embassy had been shown to its apartments, where they would bathe and nap and have their hair dressed before supper (which the envoy hoped she and her deputy might eat with His Majesty).
She could have paid her respects first, Gurtho thought. Well. At supper then. He ordered Rogell to take word to the steward that supper was to be private—the Dynast’s envoy, her deputy, and His Majesty. A formal reception would be scheduled for a later date, with appropriate guests.
At supper, Gurtho was hard-pressed not to stare. Briefly he was disconcerted that they looked so young, but the envoy’s self-possession soon dispelled that. Their beauty was not so easily recovered from, and Idri, he had no doubt, was the most desirable woman he’d ever seen. Even her name he found seductive, and spoke it in his mind. Idri!
Still, he ate essentially as he might have. Their small talk went well enough, and neither woman was aloof, nor even reserved. When they’d finished dessert, it was the envoy who brought up business. “The Dynast is interested in establishing a permanent embassy here,” she said.
“Indeed?” He wondered if Idri might be named ambassadrix.
“She’s never placed a permanent embassy before, except with the King in Silver Mountain. Now she’s considering placing several. Yours first perhaps. After all, Tekalos is one of the larger kingdoms, and you are one of the most powerful kings.”
“And we love your countryside,” Idri put in. “I for one would not object at all to being located here. I can imagine how lovely it will be when the buds burst, and wildflowers line the roadsides.”