The Lion of Farside by John Dalmas

Gurtho’s pulse quickened. “Indeed! We already have flowers in bloom around the palace.”

“We saw them,” Liiset said, “daffodils and tulips, mostly,” then returned the talk to business. “The Dynast is also interested in the possibility of alliance. If you think you may be, we should discuss it.”

“Indeed! I might well be interested,” Gurtho said. “How long will you remain?”

“A week. The Dynast has one misgiving. She likes her allies strong, and clearly, Gurtho and Tekalos are that, but it’s a strength impaired by internal discord. Your Kullvordi hillsmen revolt in almost every generation.”

Gurtho frowned. What had that to do with anything? “True,” he said, “but we never allow it to become a threat. Just this month, at my orders, the reeves whose shires include the hill districts sent soldiers in and burned the farmsteads of some tax cheats, making examples of their families. Now the hillsmen most inclined to rebellion will rise up, showing us who they are so we can destroy them.”

“Ah. And are these Kullvordi good fighters?”

He shrugged. “Not good enough. We always win. Easily.”

“What would they be like if you could recruit them for your own army, and train them properly?”

“They’d never join my army. I doubt that as many as a dozen have in my own and my father’s time combined. And those who did were lazy and insubordinate.”

The envoy nodded. “Of course. If they had no loyalty to their own people, they’d hardly be loyal to someone else.”

“Exactly!” said Gurtho, misunderstanding.

It was Idri who spoke next. “You’re a strong ruler. We appreciate strong men.”

“Yes. Well, one must be, in my position.” He turned to the butler and snapped his fingers. “More wine, Elwar,” he said. “Whatever best follows the pastries.”

Bowing, the butler left the room, and Gurtho returned his attention to the Sisters. “How do two such lovely women pass the time when they aren’t doing the duties of envoys?”

“Our duties occupy more of our time than you might think,” Liiset answered. “For example, before coming here, we read a great deal about your kingdom.”

“Indeed? I wasn’t aware that a great deal had been written about it. I trust it was complimentary. Was I mentioned?”

“Complimentary enough that we’ve looked forward to being here. And yes, you were mentioned in the more recent writings.”

“Who writes these things?”

“Travelers. Visitors. Merchants.”

“Hmh.” Gurtho wasn’t sure he was pleased.

“We also play,” Idri added.

“Play? At what?”

“Among other things,” Liiset said, “Idri plays the lap harp.” She turned to Idri. “Would you like to play for the king, my dear?”

Idri looked demurely at Gurtho, then at her hands in her lap, and smiled. “It would gladden me to give pleasure to such a king as Gurtho.”

“Well then,” Liiset said, and for a long moment seemed to ponder in silence. Gurtho waited. “Have you ever heard our music of spring?” she said at last. “We favor it in this season. Much of it was written for ensembles, but even more for solo instruments. Including the lap harp.”

“I’ll send for an instrument,” Gurtho said.

“She has her own; I’ve called for it already.”

“You have?”

“Through the mind. Many of us can speak through the mind to those we’re most closely related to. One of my aides should be here momentarily.” Briefly they sat talking; then an outer guard entered.

“Your Majesty! A young woman wishes to give something to her lady,” the man said awkwardly. The “young woman” looked so much like the envoy, Gurtho felt sure they were twins. She delivered to Idri a lap harp hardly twenty inches high.

Idri tuned the instrument while the others watched, then began to play, with skill if not inspiration, the music alternating between bright, dark, and serene. Soon, though, Gurtho became restless, and seeing this, Liiset yawned delicately. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I haven’t entirely recovered from our long ride. I’m afraid I must retire.”

“Already, dear Sister?” Idri asked. “His Majesty seems bright-eyed, and as far as I’m concerned, I can play the night away.”

Gurtho’s pulse quickened. “Indeed,” he said, “don’t take her away so soon. Let her play some more. I can understand your being tired, and certainly won’t be offended if you leave us. But as for me—her playing enchants me more than you might imagine.”

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