Songweaver's Awakening

Chapter 25 - Lladwen

The tent was dark.  The bronze lamps shone dully, licked at by a breeze from the southern entrance.  Lladwen peered outside, trying to make out any movement.

“They'll come,” Helen said, her voice low.  She sat in an unfolded wooden chair to his right, her face serene.  She always seemed to know what he thought, sometimes even before he knew it himself.  “They have too much at stake not to show up.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Lladwen said gruffly.  He adjusted his belt, brushing his fingers over the curved sword that hung at his side.  He'd rarely ever been so nervous.  There were only the two of them in this tent, a little ways south of the city walls.  If the Talians decided to ambush them, they wouldn't stand a chance.  Lladwen sometimes wondered if Helen placed too much faith in his abilities.  He was getting older.  He could feel it in the creak of his bones on cold mornings and the streaks of gray that were beginning to appear in his hair.  He was slowing down.

“Take your hand off your sword, Lladwen, they're here,” Helen said.  A corner of her mouth twitched upwards.  “You wouldn't want to scare them, would you?”

She was right.  Through the tent flap waving in the wind, Lladwen caught a glimpse of lamps and dark shapes, moving closer through the desert.  He counted three pricks of light and three shadowed figures to go along with them.  He relaxed a bit, and let his hand fall to his side.  No ambush.

They were dressed in the way of the southern deserts.  One ducked in after another, until all three stood in the tent.  The last turned and fastened the tent flap closed.  Despite the robes covering them from head to toe, up close they were clearly Talian.  All three were taller than most Hajinni.  Their skin, although darkened by the sun, was too pale and the wrong shade.  And each had eyes as pale as Lladwen's own.  They'd pass, from a distance.

Almost in unison, they removed their hoods and head scarves.  Two were men, both rough-shaven.  One was fair-haired and the other dark.  Both had the same chiseled features and aquiline noses typical of Talians.  The third was a woman with silver hair.  She stood a little ways in front of the other two, her back straight.  Her face was more handsome than pretty—it was square rather than oval or round—and the skin at the corners of her eyes and mouth crinkled like fine parchment.

When she opened her mouth and spoke, the words seemed to materialize in mid-air.  “I am Amiselle, the king's steward.  He has given me leave to act with his authority.”

Helen remained seated.  The two men behind the steward grew visibly irritated.  Lladwen suppressed a smirk.  Helen had the Talians exactly where she wanted them, and she knew it.  She leaned forward in her chair.  “First I will be telling you what I am giving you, and then I will be telling you exactly what you are giving me in return.  Fair exchange.”

The expressions on the two men were murderous now.  Lladwen inched his fingers closer to his sword, sizing up the two men in a glance.  Both were nearly as tall as him, and wide at the shoulders.  He assumed they were skilled by the mere fact that they were there.  He watched them, only half-hearing Helen's words as she continued.

“I will tell you exactly where you can find the last two remaining Fair Folk Queens and their brethren.  In return, when the time comes, you will acknowledge me as First Seat and afford me all the same privileges.”

Amiselle's eyes narrowed.  She looked like a cat that wasn't sure whether she would pounce on a mouse or whether the mouse would pounce on her.  “We already agreed to send no word to your current First Seat, all on the whisper of a promise.  Now you're asking us to acknowledge you as First Seat?  Farahd's a powerful man.  We wouldn't do well to make an enemy of him.  Then there's the fact that you're a hard woman to bargain with, Helen.  I doubt my king would enjoy bargaining with you for the rest of your life.”