"I bear a letter from King Reynard himself. Perhaps this will explain the situation in a little more detail."
He smiled, a smile so gentle and without guile Alaire could almost believe it himself. "I fear, your highness, that I have allowed complacency to cause an uncomfortable situation."
"Quite the contrary," King Archenomen said. His voice boomed, but the slight crack on the last syllable indicated some residual shock. "I'm afraid I've over- reacted. Those of Suinomen seldom run across citi- zens of other countries, especially members of less -- other races." He smiled broadly, and insincerely.
Lesser races, Alaire thought, completing the sen- tence another way, and sighed to himself. We have our work cut out for us.
"Please, have dinner with us tonight. You may stay in our royal visitor's suite. Will your... servant be stay- ing with you, or should we put him in the servant's quarters?"
Maddeningly, Naitachal seemed to consider this.
When he cast a brief glance in Alaire's direction, Alaire thought he sensed the hint of a devious smile.
You wouldn't! Alaire thought, although he knew that the Bard would, if he thought it amusing enough.
After considering this, Naitachal said, indiffere "No, I will be requiring his presence for secretarial work. Allow me to introduce Alaire. Although he is my assistant, he is near and dear to the King's heart"
Naitachal let this last statement dangle in the air for just the right amount of time, with just the right amount of inflection, suggesting innuendo. Near t King's heart? Could he be implying to His Majesty that I'm a royal bastard? The ruse seemed to make sense. That would explain my clothes, and why I'm with Naitachal. Otherwise, it would look odd.
The King gazed thoughtfully at Alaire, then, with a knowing look, nodded in his direction. "I see. We will be most hospitable to you both."
Naitachal didn't seem to hear this. "If it is conven- ient, could we put him in an adjoining room? If not, he can sleep on the floor of my room."
What?
"Certainly, certainly," the King said. "Paavo, would you please show them their quarters?"
As they filed out of the royal chambers, Alaire thought, indignantly, hoping that Naitachal would somehow hear the thoughts -- On the floor? Really!
Master, we are going to have a little talk very soon!
Chapt Alaire was glad to find a comfortable, if lumpy, goose- feather bed tucked away in a corner of his room, which turned out to be the antechamber to Nai- tachal's quarters. The walls were the ubiquitous stone; the floors, as they seemed to be everywhere in the palace, were reddish-gold planks of a wood he couldn't identify. This explained the pleasant, spicy aroma that permeated the rooms. Naitachal had a plush room with plastered walls and ceiling, painted with elaborate scenes of buxom wood nymphs. The room, unlike Alaire's, had its own fireplace, with a chimney of carved stone, and an ample supply of fire- wood. The enormous canopied bed could have accommodated a family of ten.
"I might want to sleep on the floor, anyway," Alaire said, standing in front of the fireplace. He shivered in the chill that already filled the apartment, although it was still early in the evening.
"I doubt that dragging the mattress in here would raise any eyebrows." Naitachal frowned, in a way that was particularly disturbing to Alaire. "They probably expect bizarre, eccentric behavior from both of us. I must be the first elf of any color most of these people have ever seen. I knew that intellectually, of course, but actually dealing with it is irritating."
Alaire wanted to quiz him more on his first impres- sions, but a knock sounded on the door. A young servant informed them dinner was ready, and tha Majesty King Archenomen requested their presence at the table.
Naitachal's look seemed to say, We'll compare notes later, as they walked down the torchlit halls to the din- ing room, where Alaire smelled the overpowering aroma of cooked meat and potatoes.
Eating with the King and his court turned out to be a complicated affair. A multi-tiered floor held several long tables, each one at a different level. It looked rather as if someone had carved narrow platforms into the side of a hill, and dropped a section of table onto each one. The lower tables were less decorated than the ones atop. The one at the apex had a huge cooked pig as its centerpiece. The King presided over the event like a judge, scrutinizing everyone who came in.
No queen was in sight, and Alaire made a note to find out if there was one, or if the King had a harem of con- cubines, as sometimes happened in other distant lands. The servant led Naitachal to this higher tier, and automatically Alaire went after them.
"No, no, no!" one of the kitchen wenches admon- ished, waving a wooden spoon. She was hauling a kettle of gravy that probably outweighed them both.
"Only the ambassador dines with the King. You sit down there," she said sharply, as if he was an idiot, and went on with her task.