Fool's Quest (The Fitz and The Fool Trilogy #2)

I wondered how Lant and Per perceived it, and wondered even more if the city whispered to the human guardsmen who walked ahead of, beside, and behind us. With a waft of smell and wind, a green-and-silver dragon passed over us, climbing steadily into the sky. I caught not his thoughts exactly, but his intent. He went to the hunt and for one peculiar moment I longed to hunt with him.

The day was cold and the wind off the unseen river had that wet bite to it that cuts through a man. General Rapskal did not slow his pace for weary travelers with heavy loads. Even so, I had time to notice that the city was sparsely populated. Some streets seemed to have inhabited structures, and the next would show signs of long desertion and disrepair. From my journey on the Skill-road, I knew that anything wrought from Skill-worked stone retained its shape and purpose far longer than any ordinary work of man. The wind might carry debris and scatter dust on the wide streets, but no errant seed had found a crack to take root in, no straggling vine struggled to tear down even the quake-cracked walls. This city had recalled for deserted generations that it was a city, and as if to mock its paltry number of inhabitants it seemed to better remember its distant past as a center of Elderling culture. I took note of all I saw and contrasted it with what Chade and King Dutiful believed of Kelsingra. Unless we were on the edges of a much more populous center, Kelsingra and the Dragon Traders were presenting a far more prosperous face to the world than they truly could muster.

As I had surmised, we were walked to the base of the map-tower and then up those wide steps. The central stairs had been scaled for a dragon’s stride, as were the tall doors at the top. I dreaded such a climb, but they took us to the human-scaled steps to one side. There, at least, folk were coming and going, some in robes as gaudy as the Fool’s tent and the general’s garb, and some in more prosaic leather and wool. A carpenter passed us, followed by his journeyman and three apprentices, all laden with their tools. I took in the grand art that graced the walls and then General Rapskal and his guards were escorting us into a vast and echoing space.

The immense entry hall was cleaner than I recalled it and much emptier. It was warmer as well, and seemed possessed of a sourceless light. The last time I had visited here, the floor had been littered with the fibers and dust of collapsed wooden furniture. The ancient debris had been cleared away, and a score of new desks and tables strove to occupy a space designed for hundreds. Scribes of various mien and garb occupied them, some perhaps diligently adding numbers, others facing a queue of people waiting with various degrees of impatience. I dreaded that we would be assigned to such a queue, but instead we were marched through that hall, drawing all manner of stares, and ushered through a wooden door and into a smaller chamber.

It was still too large a place for our company, but it offered warmth, and as soon as we halted Lant and Per gratefully set down their burdens. At a gesture from their leader, the troops ranged themselves round the wall. General Rapskal came to stand before me. “I will be immediately calling on the king and queen to see if they are willing to give you an audience. I will not deceive you. I am unhappy with your account of yourself and I will advise them to regard you with the just suspicion that intruders to our city deserve. Wait here.”

He turned and I let him go three steps before I halted him with a genial, “And will we be offered wash-water and a place to tidy ourselves before we appear before them? We’ve no wish to insult them with a rough appearance.”

He turned back. A frown creased his brow. He made a swift gesture, and one of his men stepped forward to take hasty counsel with him. It did not take long. “Captain Perling will see to your comfort and supervision while I am gone. Whatever you need, you may ask of him.” And with no more farewell than that, he turned and marched out of the room. The close-fitting footwear he wore made little more than a whisper against the stone. I turned a kindly look on the captain and smiled.

“When the Elderling Selden sojourned with us many years ago, he spoke glowingly of the wonders of your city. I see now that he did not exaggerate. Could we trouble you, good Captain, for warm water and perhaps food and wine to restore ourselves? As you can imagine, our travels since the bear attack have been a journey of privation.”

I was following an axiom of Chade’s. Always behave as if you are the person you wish to be perceived as. I was an emissary from the Six Duchies, a prince of the blood, and I had every right to be welcomed as such. Nonetheless, I had initially feared we would be thrown into a cell or dungeon until the king and queen could judge us. At the very least, I’d expected to be treated harshly, but the captain did not appear to share his general’s trepidation about us. He dispatched a handful of his men for food and drink and wash-water, invited us to be seated, and had his men bring a table and set it before us. The benches he offered us appeared hard and cold, but when we were seated, they warmed and became as soft as any cushioned chair.