“Basha—” Lord Darramon began.
“No. It’s all right,” Lady Darramon told him. “I have never doubted the Lady Marissya’s goodwill, and I won’t start now.” The Great Lord’s wife gave Marissya a wan smile. “I would appreciate whatever aid you can provide, my lady.”
Darramon watched his wife go with a troubled frown, but hisexpression hardened when he looked back at Rain. “Don’t think this will make me listen with a more favorable ear.”
“My lord, I would not dream of it.” Rain gave a final, precise bow. “An open mind is all I ask for.”
Lord Darramon wasn’t the only guest who responded coolly to Rain’s overtures, but to his surprise, numerous couples welcomed him with warmth. That baffled him at first, but as the evening progressed and Rain watched those same couples exchanging long glances and subtle touches and smiles before dinner, he began to understand.
He glanced at Dax and saw the same amused realization in the Fey lord’s eyes.«Perhaps we’re going about this the wrong way,»Rain suggested. Despite the earlier tension with Lord Darramon, a thread of laughter tinged his weave.«Maybe Rowan was right and we should be approaching all the elderly lords who might swap a vote in exchange for a bit more... rejuvenation.»
Dax choked on his pinalle.
Swallowing a grin, Rain plucked a bite-sized morsel of roast quail in pastry from a passing tray and popped it in his mouth. If nothing else came of tonight’s dinner, at least he could give Ellysetta the relief of knowing that not all Celieria’s lords had found her weave an unwelcome enchantment.
Marissya and Basha Darramon returned before the guests were called to dinner. Darramon’s wife, while still frail, had much better color, and she walked with a surer step.
«A malignancy,»Marissya informed Rain and Dax as the guests followed Teleos into the dining room.«She will require far more than a few brief chimes of healing. I soothed her fatigue and did what I could to help her body fight the advance of her disease, but unless she comes to the Fading Lands or half a dozen of our strongest healers go to her, she will be dead this time next year.»
«Well,»Dax said.«Cruel as it sounds, if we want his vote, that seems one sure way to get it.»
Theshei’dalin’sspine stiffened.«Shei’tan, I know you cannot be suggesting we bribe him with his wife’s life.»
«Marissya, you accepted long ago that you can’t heal every dying mortal. We’re in a fight for our lives. If the promise of healing Lady Darramon helps secure Lord Darramon’s vote, we would be fools not to consider it. Besides, if the Eld gain free access to Celieria, she’s dead already—or worse, used as a tool to force her husband to comply with the Mages.»
Rain gazed across the table at the tender concern and open love stamped on Lord Darramon’s hard face as he bent his head to murmur something to his wife. What if Rain were in Lord Darramon’s place and Ellysetta were the one dying? What wouldn’t Rain do to secure her health? What wouldn’t he give?
Tension coiled in his gut at the mere thought of it, and the tairen growled a fierce warning. Dax was right. The promise of healing Lady Basha would secure Lord Darramon’s vote in an instant. A man who loved his wife as deeply as Darramon clearly loved Basha would never let something so trifling as the cast of a ballot stand in the way of her health.
A wily king would use that leverage to his own advantage.
After dinner, the guests retired to Teleos’s conservatory. Servants bustled around offering tea, keflee, and a selection of flavorful liqueurs, and the discussion turned in earnest to the Eld Trade Agreement.
Great Lord Verakis, holder of a very large and strategic West Midlands estate, was a sober man, thoughtful, educated, and deliberate in his thinking. His lands lay directly in the path of the Garreval. If war came, the Eld would march through Verakis on their way to the Fading Lands, and luckily for Rain, the lord knew it. The calm, well-reasoned discussion provided the impetus Rain needed to draw even the more reticent lords into discourse.
“My lands are nowhere near the Garreval and of little strategicimportance,” objected Lord Dunn, a small central Celierian landholder.
“Perhaps not strategic by location, Lord Dunn,” Rain corrected as he recalled the information Master Fellows had imparted to Ellysetta this afternoon about the House Dunn, “but even Eld armies need food. The quality and abundance of your crops make Dunn a ripe prize.”
“My lord, really,” Lord Nevis Barlo objected. The man was another small landholder with estates located south of Celieria City. “You’re talking as if Mage conquest is a certainty—when in fact no proof exists to support your claim.”
“I know the Mages, Lord Barlo,” Rain replied. “I am intimately familiar with what they will do for power. If the Mage Council has been reconstituted, have no doubt about it, conquestisa certainty. Perhaps not this year, perhaps not the next, but it will come. Mages are patient adversaries. They will wait until you grow complacent, and then they will strike.”
“My Lord Feyreisen.” Lord Callumas Nin, the Great Lord and naval hero who held Queen’s Point, cleared his throat. “All of us are here because we are willing to listen to what you say. But let us talk facts, not conjecture—no matter how well-founded you believe that conjecture might be. You want our votes to keep the Eld out of Celieria. The Eld want our votes to let them in. We know what the Eld are offering: gold, trade, an unlimited supply ofkeioto cure any future outbreaks of plague. What is it the Fey are offering?”
Rain nodded, pleased by the glimmer of progress—even though what mortals called diplomacy was just a polite term for bribery. “A good question, my lord. As your ancestors learned long ago, the Fey have much to offer, and our gifts come with none of the strings the Eld attach.” He accepted a small goblet of pinalle from a passing servant and leaned forward. “We have warriors of a skill no mortal will ever match, my lord, swordsmasters to train your men and fight alongside them should the need arise. Healers to tend your sick.” He met Lord Darramon’s eyes. “Magic to helpward your holdings. Sails that amplify the wind to make ships move faster.” He took a sip of his drink. “Does any of that interest you, my lord?”
Lord Fann, the shipbuilder, sat up a bit straighter. “Magic-enhanced sails?”
Lord Nin’s response was more reserved but no less interested. “Tell us more.”
Rain signaled to Dax. The Fey lord launched into a detailed discussion of what the Fey and their magic could provide. As he spoke, Rain caught Lord Darramon’s gaze and wove a private thread of Spirit between them.«Your wife is dying. Without healing, Marissya says she will be gone this time next year.»
The goblet of pinalle in the Great Lord’s hand trembled, and sweet blue wine splashed over the rim to run, unnoticed, in rivulets over his shaking hand. His face turned pale beneath its tan. He had not known. Suspected, perhaps, but not with certainty.
Rain felt sorry for the man. The news was clearly a terrible blow.«I will not risk the safety of our women by sending them far from the Faering Mists, but if you bring your wife to the Garreval, I will arrange for our healers to tend her there.»
If I grant you my vote.The response was a thought unbacked by power but easily read.
