He waved at the throne behind him. "A king must be many things—strong, wise, just. But he must also be well-fed, well-bred and well-endowed!”
Cheers and applause followed.
“Fortunately, tonight, I see before me a feast fit for a man of such esteemed virtue. And soon, a display of generosity so grand that even the gods might weep!”
Laughter spread, keeping the room warm. The Vaich leaned forwards, lowering his voice to make them listen closer. “To those who bring me gifts, let them be great so that I might remember your names. To those who bring me nothing, the cliffs are but a stone’s throw away.” A final burst of laughter. The king raised his cup, his grin sharpening. “Now, drink deep, eat your fill, and let us see if any of you are as loyal as you claim.”
Raucous clapping sounded as the king settled back in his chair. The druid had not expected such vigor nor charisma, yet the words, he felt, were on purpose. It wasn’t what the Vaich had said in his speech, but rather all the things he had left out.
The druid said nothing. There would be no time to talk then, and thus, he coiled in waiting.
There came a procession of admirers—nobles eager to bestow gifts for favor. It was an exchange, the druid was sure, but they made a great show of it. Some brought wares—dishes, crockery or wine—others brought tapestries, carpets and twine. They were soon piled high with oddments and clutter. One man brought a great and beautiful sword; one lady offered the druid a capelet.
“If he will accept,” said she with a curtsy, “it is made of Drau silk. It would fetch a hundred gilds on the noble market.”
The druid did not see reason in such exorbitant clothing, but neither could he refuse what was offered. He nodded and the Vaich waved her forwards.
“The Queen would be pleased to wear such splendid things. Isn’t that right,darling?” The Vaich met the druid’s scathing look with a low chuckle. “The people should see us getting along. There’s merit in unity.”
“Is it not enough that we be wed? Must you also regard me as some plaything?”
“It is all mine to toy with.” The king gestured lazily. “That is what it means to be Chosen of the Sun. This land is my inheritance. And you within it.”
The druid stared. “How long do you intend to spin yourself these stories?”
The Vaich grinned.
Next came a man from the northlands who carried with him two small pups. They caught the attention of the crowd as they squealed and squirmed, and the man let them down. The Vaich was on his feet in excitementas the little beasts bounded up. He came to the edge of the dais and spread his arms wide.
“What eager things!” he exclaimed as they rushed him.
“These are fine hounds,” said the man. “They’re young ’n wild now, but bred clever as they come. Good for huntin’ ’n more loyal than any man here.”
They came right into the Vaich’s arms, dark as soil and just as rich, howling in a frenzy of delight. He lifted one to lick his face. “A mighty gift, indeed.”
“Arl of Grunding, sire.”
“I will remember you, Arl.” The Vaich returned, leading the pups along and ordered a servant to bring them some bacon. “Will you say you do not enjoy them, druid?”
“They ought to be on the teat. They’re too young.”
“They’re braw, already.”
The druid shook his head. “It is a foul thing to keep a beast locked inside.”
Another irritable smirk. “Then be good and make sure you take them about.”
The druid wanted nothing but to peel that look off his face. But the final guests to arrive did it for him. At first, they seemed almost harmless—a brief glance did not give them away. But the druid felt it—a darkness come over him, and his eyes lingered on their ghostly complexions. Instinctively, his fingers curled, and the heart in his chest beat faster.
These men were Dunns.
The Vaich seemed to sense it at the same time, and straightened, watching as the group approached. They wore dark robes and had mantles made of ebon feathers and bird bones. It was faint amongst the savory scents in the air, but it hung in the druid’s nose…
They smelled of death.
“Riders from Dunn Kennigh,” said the Vaich. “How surprising to see you. Where is your laird, gentlemen?”
There were six in total, but only one spoke. He was gaunt in the cheeks and slight of frame, but his height rivaled the tallest amongst them. He said, “Master Dravoghan sends his regards. He wishes you a veryproductivenight on the morrow.”
