The Jongurian Mission (26 page)

“I’m a lucky man,” was all his uncle had said before he turned to give his attention to some of the delegate’s advisors.

Jossen
had slowly turned and limped toward the doors leading out of the hall, the empty space given him soon filling up with more men wanting to shake Halam’s hand.

No sooner
had one side of the crowd around Halam close up with Jossen’s exit, than the other had opened for the approach of the king. Rowan Waldon had strode up to Halam, looking more regal than his young age implied.

“Congratulations on your success, sir,” Rowan
had said as he shook Halam’s hand.

“Thank you, your grace, but my success would have been certain failure without your support
.”

“That it may have been, but now we
’ll never know,” the king had replied with a smile.

Halam
had smiled back, not quite sure how he should answer, and at a bit of a loss for words as well. It wasn’t everyday that a provincial trade official was thanked by the king for a job well done.

“I would like it if you and some of the other delegates would dine with me this evening,” the king
had continued after a few moments.

“I would be honored, your majesty,” Halam
had said, giving a slight bow.

“I think it would be appropriate if all of the men who supported you were present,” Rowan
had continued, his voice louder now so that all of the other delegates gathered around could hear. “And perhaps some of your more important advisors,” he’d finished, his eyes falling on Bryn as he said the last.

“It would be my pleasure, sir,” Halam
had replied.

“Good, I will have the guards escort you shortly.”

With that the king had turned and headed toward the back door of the room, the crowd parting to let him pass, Tullin, the queen mother, and his other silent advisor fast on his heels.

Halam
had let out an audible sigh at the king’s exit, and many of the men around him laughed. He’d broken into a smile and wiped away an invisible sheen of sweat from his forehead in a mock show of relief at being out of the royal spotlight, much to the amusement of all around. Shortly after that Halam had excused himself, saying that he needed to freshen up and find some decent clothes for his audience with the king later that evening. The hall had cheered him once again as he, Rodden, and Bryn left the map room for the last time and headed down the hallways toward their small room.

All three
had been surprised upon entering to see that their travel-stained clothes which they’d journeyed to the capital in had been freshly washed and laid out for them on the beds. They’d changed out of what they were wearing, the only other set of clothes each had with them, the feel of the clean clothes a pleasant change and another reminder of their earlier success. There hadn’t been much time to wash up or talk before there came a knock on the door, and they found themselves once again led down the hallways, this time to a royal dinner with the king.

They
’d been shown into the large dining hall, which was longer than it was wide, and the only windows were high up from the floor and gave little light into the room. Large candelabras hung down from the high ceiling suspended by thick chains, the flames from them illuminating the hall. The walls contained the same type of paintings and tapestries Bryn had seen so often in the palace hallways over the previous days. Lush hunting scenes and portraits of royalty hung next to provincial and royal insignias. Some of the tapestries were old and tattered, and Bryn couldn’t recognize their coat-of-arms, while many of the portraits had paint peeling from them, leaving the royal visages with odd, flaking skin. The carpets were a rich red with gold borders, and covered nearly the whole of the long floor, tapering only as they neared the walls where the flagstones could be seen, their surfaces glossy and well-polished from centuries of use. The table was made from thick oak and painted with a dark brown coating to seal it against the elements. Long and narrow, it stretched from one wall nearly to the other, and Bryn figured that it exceeded a furrowed field from back home in length. Several high-backed chairs were set into it, and there had already been several men sitting in them.

Orin was present, sharing a cup of wine with Pader Brun from Culdovia and Willem Pritt of Duldovia, both laughing at something that Orin had said, their worries of earlier nothing more than distant memories.
Iago Cryst of Mercentia was having a conversation with Millen Fron from Fallownia and Edgyn Thron of Portinia, and although Bryn was unsure what Iago was saying, he was nearly certain it had something to do with weapons or war. Bryn was surprised to see Palen Biln of Ithmia occupying one of the chairs. He sat next to Iago but took no part in the conversation, obviously content to sit with his own thoughts. After his hasty exit from the conference earlier, Bryn was certain he wouldn’ see the man again, and was rather glad for it. The lecture he’d given him earlier still sent shudders of regret up his spine at the audacity he’d shown, even though it may have done much to sway the man’s thinking.

As the
had three entered the hall, all of the men stopped talking at once and rose up to come over and offer another round of congratulations to Halam. Hands were shook and backs slapped all over again, the delegates overjoyed at their earlier success. Palen remained aloof, and Bryn figured he was the only one paying the Ithmian any attention, primarily to be certain that he always kept another body separating them, which ensured no conversations would occur. While the men had been talking and laughing and recounting the events of the conference earlier, the large double-doors to the hall opened and the had king entered with Tullin and his other advisor trailing behind, the queen mother nowhere to be seen. Rowan strode right up to Halam and shook his hand again, then did the same to each of the other men in the room, Bryn included, saying how happy he was to see a proposal pass the conference so quickly, and one that he was honored to support. With that he’d gestured for the men to sit at the table and await dinner, which would be served shortly.

The king
had taken the seat at the head of the long table at the end opposite the doors, and had gestured for Halam to take the seat on his right and Orin his left. Rodden and Bryn had seated themselves across from each other in the next two chairs at Tullin’s direction, then came Pader and Willem; Iago and Millen; and Edgyn and Palen, with Tullin and the other man taking the final two chairs, although the table and chairs still stretched on down the room half again as long as the few spots they all took up. And it was there that Bryn now sat, still amazed by it all.

“Gentleman,” the king began, “I think you all know each other quite well
by now,” he said, gesturing toward them, and they all smiled their acknowledgement. “My advisor Tullin introduced himself to the conference,” Tullin gave a nod of his head to the other men, “but I don’t think that my other advisor has been properly introduced.”

The man seated in the last chair rose.
He appeared just as stern-looking as he had at the conference, Bryn thought, and his face still had that perpetual frown from the large scar stretching from eye to chin on his left cheek. He was old; probably the oldest man in the room, judging from his wrinkled face and grey hair slowly fading to white. His dark-brown eyes looked each of them up and down; measuring, judging.

“Gentleman, I would like you to meet Mito Durin.”
The men all nodded their heads toward Mito, before the king went on. “Mito advised my father as king and now I’m lucky to have him do the same for me. I trust his council and I think his views may be rather helpful for us tonight as we discuss how we will go about renewing trade with Jonguria.”

The king took his seat and four serving women and two men came into the room from the main entrance, carrying trays of food before them.
The main course was pheasant, shot down in the King’s Wood earlier that day, with roasted potatoes and a thick red cranberry sauce. Two large plates of fruit were set on each end for the guests to sample; the selection included apples, oranges, melons, and berries. A plate containing an assortment of nuts was placed in the center of the table, and next came a tray with several kinds of olives and pickled cucumbers. Loaves of bread and wheels of cheese appeared, followed lastly by two large flagons of wine and two of ale. When the food was laid down, the men set before each guest a plate, knife, and fork while the women placed a cup and filled it with ale or wine as dictated. With everything laid out before them the serving women left the hall, leaving the two serving men to take up position against the walls in case they were needed.

“I
’ll certainly miss the hospitality of the palace,” Rodden said as he grabbed a handful of olives and began popping them into his mouth.

“Aye, that’s for sure,” Iago agreed while piling his plate high with pheasant and potatoes.
“We’re not used to such royal fare back at the academy in Nicosia, just thin oat gruel and horseflesh.” The men around the table laughed.

“How is the academy these days, Iago,” Rowan asked while slicing an apple with his knife.

Iago straightened in his seat.
“Our training continues smoothly, your grace, and we continue to adhere to the ancient codes of battle.” He paused, looking at the plates of food on the table. “The demand for our services has fallen off substantially since the war ended, as you can imagine, but we make do.”

“Tell me Edgyn,” Tullin said, changing the subject, “is the fleet of ships at Dockside up to the task of supplying Jonguria with our goods once again?”

Edgyn was a few moments in answering while he finished his mouthful of pheasant and took a sip of wine. “Yes, sir, I believe we’re more than up to the task. It’s true that many of our transport ships have been tied up for these many years past, but they’re all seaworthy and can be trusted to move any and all goods safely to their destinations.”

“That
’s good to hear,” Tullin replied to the man next to him as he reached for his cup of wine. “And what of your own ship, the…”

“The
Comely Maiden
,” Edgyn finished for him. “She’s in fine shape, indeed. While I’ve not taken her on any runs to Jonguria since the war ended, I do keep her sea legs in shape by moving goods from Dockside to Shefflin and even up north into Tillatia from time to time. Many find it much cheaper to send their goods by ship when the alternative is a journey twice as long by the kingdom’s roads.”

“The
Comely Maiden
?” Willem asked. “That wasn’t the same ship that you used during the war, was it?”

“Only the closing days of it,” Edgyn responded.
“For the first seven years I sailed the
Apsalar Princess
, but on a mission to supply the troops in Bindao three Jongurian ships soon appeared off my bow. I was able to outmaneuver them for a while until a storm came up, at which point I thought it best to turn back toward home to fight another day. They did’t feel the same way, unfortunately, and I soon found myself run aground off the Barrier Mountains. Instead of letting the Jongurians have the cargo we lit the ship up and used the inferno to hide our escape.” He paused to take a drink of wine. “I tell you though, we sure were lucky to make it past the Isthmus before we had to scuttle her. As it was, the walk back to dockside was a long one, but it could have been much worse.”

“And that was the only trouble you ran into during the war?” Pader asked.

“Aye, the only worth mentioning, anyway. I caught and boarded more than my share of ships, but that was the only time the Jongurians got the better of me.”

“Did anything similar happen to you Willem?” Rowan asked the Duldovian.

“Nothing near as exciting, your highness,” Willem replied. “While Edgyn was supplying Bindao in the south, I did the same for the Baishur River area in the north. I fought my share of battles, for sure, but I was lucky and made it through the war unscathed. You must remember that my ship was much smaller than Edgyn’s, and while not able to carry as many soldiers or supplies, she was fast on her feet and able to outrun most pursuers. You see,” he continued, “the
Sea Nymph
was intended for the gentler waters of the Duldovian Sea, not the terrible northern storms that the Ipsalar Ocean will throw at you in winter.”

“You managed to get her back to the Sea, then?” Orin asked as he sliced off a good-sized chunk of cheese.

“It took some doing, but I managed to bring her back home, although I was forced to wait two full seasons for the Plains River to flow high enough for me to sail her back up it.”

“And how is the Apsalar Ocean to sail this time of year?” Tullin asked Edgyn.

“It’s as calm as any mountain lake in Montino,” Edgyn answered.
“If you want to sail, this is the best time of year for an uneventful voyage. The winds aren;t as harsh as in the winter months, but the seas are calmer, making the voyage, while not as fast, much more pleasant.”

“That is good to hear,” the king said from his seat at the head of the table.
“I think most of the men around the table will praise the calm seas; it’ll make their voyage to Jonguria that much more pleasant.”

Rowan sat back in his chair, a slight smile on his face, as the other men looked around at one another questioningly, unsure of what was just said.