And yet, before the sun was even on the horizon, a chariot — a chariot! — pulled by a pair of briskly trotting, snow-white mules, came rolling up to the front courtyard. Attracted by the unexpected sound of hooves and wheels, Siegfried hurried there in time to see the vehicle turn into the courtyard and pull to a halt in front of the big bronze front door.
It was driven by a queenly woman in a columnar, ivy-green gown, entirely unlike anything the women wore here. He didn't get more than a glimpse of her, though, because the chariot wasn't even at a full stop when a young man in half armor with a bow on his back and a sword at his side leapt out of it. The woman blew a motherly kiss at him; he smiled, put his hand on his heart and bowed to her. With a wave of her hand, the woman slapped the reins on the backs of the mules, who cantered off in a cloud of dust. And it appeared that the young man was expected, for the great door opened; the chief servant of this place — the bird called him a "majordomo" — appeared, greeted him gravely and ushered him inside. He was the first of a procession of Princes. They arrived alone, afoot and threadbare, with no clear idea of how they had gotten here, but knowing that there was a Princess to be won. They arrived mounted, in shining armor without a speck of dust on it. They arrived with entire entourages and their own pavilions. There were fops that had never cut their own fingernails, and seasoned fighters bearing weapons with worn hilts and scabbards. There were ugly Princes, and Princes so handsome that they made Leopold look ordinary. There was even a frog thats aid he was a Prince, but he got turned back — or so the bird told Siegfried — since he really didn't qualify yet. When Siegfried found out about the poor frog, he trudged a mile down the road looking for the creature, but it had disappeared. He just hoped it had found somewhere else to go and had not been eaten by something.
In three days, there were more than fifty Princes in the Palace, Siegfried and Leopold were sharing one room of his three-room suite, and there were two princes in each of the other two rooms. The rest of the guest quarters of the Palace were similarly crowded. There was a field set aside that was full of pitched pavilions, both those that had been brought by the candidates and those that had been put up at the Queen's orders. There were even, so Siegfried had heard, plenty more without any claim to royal blood who had shown up for the trials. The bird said that they would be allowed to join, too — after all, The Tradition was full of tales of commoners who rose to thrones by winning Princesses.
And, it appeared that Queen Glacier's plan had worked, for there was one Prince from each of the five neighbors of Eltaria. Three were sons outright of the ruler in question, two were nephews. Messages had come from the watchers on all of the borders. The armies had withdrawn, and the Eltarian army brought King Thurman's body home.
There was a very impressive funeral, which Siegfried was able to see quite well, since he was a head taller than almost anyone else. There was a great deal of singing of massed people — the bird said it was called a "choir," and this was quite a new thing for Siegfried. His people had skalds, who recited rather than sang, and very raucous drinking songs. On his travels, he had listened with great pleasure to bards, minstrels, jongleurs and ladies who were said to be accomplished singers and musicians, but he had never heard massed, disciplined voices before. It was very moving. He actually found himself with stinging eyes several times, even though he did not know the dead King. He rather wished there had been more of that and less of talking. The god here, if he understood the speeches aright, was considered to be very far away, and everyone who was good got to go to a lovely place that was completely unlike Vallahalia — more of a great sky-garden than a feast-hall and a battlefield. Then again, while these folk did enjoy their feasting, they didn't seem to enjoy fighting nearly as much as Siegfried's people did, so Vallahalia probably wouldn't be much to their liking.
Finally the speeches and the singing were over, the King was put into a stone box in the god-hall instead of being set on fire, and the funeral was over. The bird, which had been on his shoulder the whole time, being very quiet, fluffed her feathers and stopped looking like a bird-shaped ornament. Some people milled about, talking about the dead King, while the throng of Princes remained to talk, retired discreetly to their quarters, or their martial exercises, according to their natures, and Siegfried pondered which group it would be better for him to join, though he was inclined to the most active choice.
That was when Leopold drew him aside. "Care to get away from this lot with me?" the man asked, rather too casually. "I know a good tavern."
Siegfried considered this. "Does it have plain food? Meat that is meat, and not hiding under a sauce?" He was getting just a little weary of the stuff these people ate. "And a good strong beer?"
Leopold smiled. "And no little dogs yapping around at your heels."
Siegfried snorted. But it was to cover what the bird was saying, because this had all the trappings of some sort of trick or trap. It might not be, of course. Of all the people here, Leopold knew him the best, and he'd not seen nor sensed any falseness about the fellow. But it paid to be careful.
"It's fine," the bird sang. "I don't feel any treachery from him. I think he wants to talk."
"All right," Siegfried agreed. "But I pay. And when my money is gone, we leave. I don't want to be chased by your creditors."
It was Leopold's turn to snort. "I'm not the sort to think I don't have to take care of my reckoning because of my blood. I always pay my due. I just do it with other peoples' money." He sighed melodramatically. "Lucky at dice, unlucky at love."
"So you say." Siegfried smiled. "Lead on, then. I already made my bow and condolences to the Princess and the Stormcrow before all of this. I don't think we'll be missed."
"Stormcrow?" Leopold asked.
"Black Glacier. Frozen Obsidian.You know." Siegfried shrugged. "The Bird of Ill Omen. She Who Is All In Black. The — "
"Oh, right." Leopold eyed him curiously. "Are your people generally so poetic?"
"Cautious," said Siegfried. "If you speak something's name too often, it might come looking for you. I don't want that to come looking for me.
"Ha! Point taken"
Leopold led the way toward the gardens that the courtiers strolled in, and which now were packed full of Princes and courtiers, supposedly being sad about the late King but actually abuzz with speculation. There would be trials for the Princess's hand, of course, that went without saying; it was the reason they were all here. But what trials? This sort of thing was unprecedented. There had not been a gathering of Princes like this for — well, in living memory of anyone who was here, and the Princes were a far-flung lot indeed.
The path Leopold took, however, skirted the edge of the gardens, then went behind all the lovely plantings and flower beds, shrubberies and fountains. Clearly it was one used by the gardeners. It led out of the pleasure gardens and into the practical ones, the vegetable and herb gardens. And from there, into the orchards; the particular plot of trees they were in was laden with little green apples.
The orchards ended at an extremely high wall; Leopold pulled out a key and unlocked the door. He motioned Siegfried through.
On the other side of the wall was a city.
Siegfried was astonished; he'd had no idea there was such a thing so near the Palace; all he had ever seen was the side that fronted on the forest. It was a big city, too, houses crowded so closely together that there wasn't enough room to put your hand between them. The door dropped them straight into the middle of it, the wall looming on one side of the street with temporary stalls all along it, a row of houses and shops on the other. Leopold emerged from the doorway and locked it behind them, put the key in his belt-pouch, and stood for a moment, grinning at the street and the traffic on it, breathing the air deeply.