Egrassa walked along a wall hung with ancient weapons with the air of a connoisseur.
“Milord Shagor?”
A man dressed in a doublet of blue and black velvet approached Eel and me. Tall, with a neat black beard, a gleaming white smile, and quizzical brown eyes. His temples were already gray. His features were noble but perfectly agreeable. Lads like that are often used as models for heroes in temple frescoes.
There was something vaguely familiar about his face.
“Whom do I have the honor of addressing?” Eel inquired with just the slightest of bows. According to Kli-Kli, a duke doesn’t really have to bother bending his back at all. I bowed rather more deeply.
“Count Balistan Pargaid. I am delighted that you have accepted my invitation,” the man replied, bowing gently.
“Thank you for your kind invitation to this wonderful reception, count. Allow me to introduce my protégé, Dralan Par.”
A faint nod. Dralans may be nobles of a kind, but they’re not held in very high esteem.
“Do you always accompany the duke everywhere, dralan?” Balistan Pargaid asked, flashing his white smile.
“I like to travel, milord. And a journey with His Lordship is always full of adventures.”
“Is that so?” Another polite and meaningless smile. “I hope that I have not dragged you away from more important business with my untimely invitation, duke?”
“Indeed, no. I was in need of a little diversion.”
The gentle music drifted round the hall and the people on all sides glanced curiously in our direction, but merely bowed politely, without trying to join in the conversation.
“I was not in time to meet you in front of my house, but I have heard that you are traveling with elves. Forgive the indiscreet question, Your Grace, but what is your connection with that particular race?”
Before Eel had a chance to reply, the jester popped out from behind the wide skirts of a lady already well past her youth, who was languidly sipping wine. The goblin was holding a cream bun in each hand.
“Bed,” he said.
“What?” the count asked, blinking.
“My master, may his backside sit on the Sea Cliffs for another two hundred years, travels with elves because they’re good in bed. Pay no attention to the dralan. He just
For a moment I was dumbstruck at such an audacious, bold-faced lie. I think that if the elves had heard what the goblin said, they would have gutted him like a fish, even though he was wearing a jester’s cap. Eel received the news about his preferences with the calm composure of a genuine duke. Balistan Pargaid, on the other hand, chuckled and gave him a knowing look.
“One must have a little variety in one’s life,” said Eel, shrugging his shoulders casually. “Otherwise it simply becomes too boring.”
“Well, naturally. Is this your fool, milord?” the count asked, examining Kli-Kli with interest.
“Is this our master, milord?” the goblin asked Eel in the same tone of voice, and stuffed both cream buns into his mouth, which instantly made him look like a hamster. Kli-Kli thought for a moment, and then spat both tasty morsels out onto the Sultanate carpet.
“My fool is sharp-tongued, but not trained in good manners, please forgive him.”
Kli-Kli made a face and bowed very low to Balistan, almost burying his nose in the carpet.
“I could say that I am glad to be here, if only there weren’t so many stuffed dummies around, dear count,” the jester squeaked.
Count Balistan Pargaid laughed merrily. “Not every man would dare to call my guests stuffed dummies!”
“In case the count has failed to notice, then I must regretfully inform him that I am not a man, but a goblin,” said Kli-Kli, jingling his little bells.
“Duke, your fool is amusing! Let me have him!”
“Don’t sell me for anything less than a thousand gold pieces!” the jester exclaimed. “And don’t forget to give me my share after the deal!”
“I’m afraid, count, that if the duke lets you have his fool, then my lord will become your bitter enemy. Believe me, Krya-Krya is a walking disaster!” I said, deciding it was time for me to open my mouth.
The count laughed again.
Meanwhile the herald struck his staff on the floor and announced more guests.
“Ah, please excuse me, Your Grace, but, you understand, the obligations of a host. We will certainly find time to talk again, will we not?”
“Of course, count. Of course.”
“Duke. Dralan.”
Then all those idiotic bows again. If it goes on like this all evening, my head’s going to fall off for sure.
“I’ll take a stroll to the fountain. Let’s meet by the stairs,” Eel said, and walked away from us.
“Well, what do you make of him? I mean the count.”
“Not now,” the jester hissed out of the corner of his mouth, jumping up and down desperately and jingling his bells. “Can you sense the Key?”
“No.”
Kli-Kli grunted, disappointed.
“Take some wine. Take a stroll!” Kli-Kli whispered to me, and disappeared into the crowd of Nightingales.
I looked around, but I couldn’t see the elves or Eel. The longer this evening went on, the more wonderful it became.
With a casual gesture I halted a servant giving out drinks and took a glass of sparkling rosé wine from him, wishing that there was something else. I can’t stand that Filand piss-water. One glass is enough to set my insides on fire, as if it had been spiked with poison.
“Would the gentleman like some sweet fruits?” An entire dish of foreign garbage sprinkled with powdered sugar was thrust under my nose.
“The gentleman would like you to clear off,” I growled at the servant.
I started strolling round the hall with a bored expression on my face. People looked askance at me, as if I had brought a half-decomposed cat into the hall and dumped it in the main dish of the evening.
A woman passed me with her skirts rustling, almost rubbing up against me. Her face was hidden behind a veil.
“I beg your pardon, milord.”
“Yes, of course, there isn’t much room. I understand.”
Another couple of steps, and the whole thing was repeated all over again, only this lady dropped her fan at my feet.
“I beg your pardon, milord, I am so clumsy.”
I had to bend down, pick the fan up off the floor, and hand it to her. She smiled sweetly and dropped a curtsey, offering her plunging neckline to my delighted gaze. It cost me an almighty effort to leave milady alone. But if I hadn’t the goblin would have given me the sharp edge of his tongue.
A few steps farther on a third milady appeared beside me, flashing her eyes flirtatiously in my direction.
“What is your name, milord?”
“Take no notice, my dear dralan! I’ll rescue you!” A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and pulled me away. “Pardon my familiarity, but I am only a baron, my domains border on the Border Kingdom, and we are taught to use a sword much earlier than etiquette. Yes, and I think you are no great devotee of etiquette, either! However, allow me in any case to introduce myself. Baron Oro Gabsbarg at your service!”
I bowed reservedly.
He was a huge man, almost as big as Honeycomb, with a shaggy black beard, little black eyes, a red face, and a thunderous voice. What he resembled most was a bear. And like everyone else in this hall, beside his own crest (a black cloud belching out lightning on a green field) he had a brooch in the form of a nightingale pinned to his clothes.
