figured this out. He burned Dezerea to the ground, and sent the Dezren elves fleeing east, toward our homes, our lands. If we are strong, we will one day achieve a victory far greater than that.”
The captain of the guard slipped through a side door and saluted.
“The elven ambassador has arrived at the gates of the city,” he said. “Shall I let him in?”
“Send him this way,” Ingram said, pushing away his plate and standing. “Be firm, you two, and do not hide your anger when we make our demands. Such prideful creatures, the elves cannot stand being treated as they should. Use it to our advantage.”
They waited, fixing their clothes and making sure they stood just right. When the double doors opened, Ingram went to greet the ambassador.
“Welcome to our city,” he said, all smiles.
The elf was slender, and tall for his race. Flowing emerald robes brushed against the stone floor as he stepped inside, and his sleeves fell low when he gracefully bowed. His hair was long and golden, his eyes a vibrant green.
“Greetings, lord and ruler of the men of Angelport,” said the ambassador. “My name is Graeven Tryll, and I have come from Quellassar to seek peace with men.”
“As do we also seek peace,” Ingram said, not bowing and hoping the ambassador would notice the slight. “Please, let me introduce my companions. This is Lord Yor Warren, who rules the northern reaches of my land. To my left is Lord Egar Moss, in charge of the west. They have the most experience when dealing with your… kind.”
Graeven bowed a second time.
“Your names are familiar to me,” he said. “I greet you, and wish Celestia’s grace upon you both.”
“Flattered,” Yor said dryly.
“I’m sure your trip was long,” Ingram said, letting a hard edge creep into his voice, “but given the many deaths our loyal citizens suffer by the tips of your arrows, I would like to begin negotiations as soon as possible.”
“I agree,” said Graeven. “But I do not speak for all elvenkind, and nor do I come alone. Our Neyvar has sent Laryssa Sinistel as well, and given her authority to speak in his name.”
Ingram felt his heart jump.
“Laryssa?” he asked, trying to show no emotion. “Your king has sent his daughter here?”
“Neyvar, not king,” corrected Graeven. “And yes. She should be arriving in a few hours, and I come to ask permission for her and her escort to enter within your walls.”
“Wait one moment,” Yor interrupted. “How large an escort?”
“Large,” said Graeven. “Along with Sildur Kinstel, Maradun Fae, and their escorts as well. Surely you understand, given our concerns for safety.”
Ingram felt ready to explode. That damn Wraith had killed the last ambassador, and while he’d been amused at first, now he wished to throttle the strange assassin. To have someone as important as Laryssa within his grasp could mean everything, but to invite that many bodyguards, all on high alert, sickened him. Elves walking freely within his walls, doing untold damage with their blades, bows, and poisons. Gods, what if they spent their seed among the loose women and whores about the docks? What bastard children might one day inhabit his city?
“Can you swear to the safety of my people?” he asked, but the words felt hollow. Like the promises of an elf meant anything.
“I can promise nothing,” Graeven said. “Only that they are here for protection, and nothing more. I do not want to imagine the consequences if something should happen to one of our wise leaders.”
“Where is it you will stay?”
“We have been graciously offered a place by one of your city’s fine men. I assume this will be no problem?”
“Of course,” said Ingram. Despite the bad taste it left in his mouth, he smiled and bowed once more. “Let us resume talks tomorrow. Make sure you send someone to let us know where you will be staying, so I might send servants to let you know when we will convene. We’ll meet here, your representatives, mine, and the Merchant Lords.”
Graeven spun on his heels and headed for the door. When it closed, Ingram stalked back to his throne, sat upon it, and shouted for a drink.
“Hardly the angry display I was told to expect,” Egar said, unable to conceal his sarcasm.
“Shut up, you fool,” Ingram said, gulping down the wine. “This changes everything. Laryssa did not come here without reason. Ceredon is playing games, and we must discover his aims. I’ll save my anger for the morrow, when they are together. Besides, if something should happen to her, something no fault of our own…but enough of that. Send word to your camps, both of you. I want their forests crawling with men. I don’t care how many die, so long as they learn that we will never, ever stop. Oh, and find out who that damn traitor is that’s willing to house the elves.”
The two lords bowed, and Ingram dismissed them with a wave. It wasn’t until they were gone that Ingram realized Graeven had not bowed before his exit. Such disrespect left him calling for more wine and wishing he had loosed his temper on the ambassador after all.
That same morning, Haern joined Alyssa and Zusa as they walked amid the hundreds of shops lining the roads just north of the docks.
“I’d prefer the few extra hours of sleep,” Haern said as they looked at a strange assortment of dresses whose cost he couldn’t even begin to guess. Forget cost, thought Haern, he couldn’t even decide which was the front and which was the back. Never before had he been so keenly aware of how secluded a life he’d led. Here in Angelport he saw styles from all four nations, tattoos drawn in bright colors, and animals in cages he had only heard of in passing. All his life he’d danced in the underworld of Veldaren, oblivious to the greater world beyond its walls.
Still, that didn’t change the fact he’d rather be sleeping than keeping up his facade of being newlyweds with Zusa.
“Come, husband,” she said, flashing him a smile, looking beautiful in a red dress that left her shoulders naked. “You treat me so distantly. Has our passion already faded?”
Haern hurried past a merchant selling a brightly colored bird with a silver beak.
“I can’t imagine so. Ours was a marriage made for the ages.”
She snickered, then grabbed his hand.
“For show,” she said, winking. Haern shook his head and laughed.
“You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” he said.
Zusa’s smile lost its joy, and he saw her exchange a look with Alyssa. He understood none of it, though, so he tried to push his mind to other things. Watching for thieves kept most of his attention. They were everywhere, lurking in corners, doorways, and the sides of stalls. They had a look to them, a wariness they could not hide from someone so familiar with their ways as Haern. Twice he’d caught a man sliding through the crowd, spotted the mark, and then put himself in the way. The first one he’d asked for directions, letting the noble lady move on to a much more occupied booth. The second time, he only grabbed the man’s arm and smiled.
“Lay off,” the thief said, yanking free.
“Pardon me,” Haern said, grinning while still blocking his way. “I thought you were someone else.”
By the time he let the thief free, the mark was gone. Zusa chided him for being childish.
“You cannot stop every crime,” she said, squeezing his hand. “The world is bigger than you.”
“I can at least stop the ones I see.”
“Even that will one day kill you. We are not in Veldaren, and right now, you are not the Watcher. Relax. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”
He chuckled, and he felt his neck flush despite himself.
“Right,” he said. “How could I forget?”
They rejoined Alyssa’s side and continued browsing the selection. At one stall Haern finally found something that caught his interest: a wide variety of swords, all exquisitely made. He was holding one, examining its hilt, when he heard a loud cry from the guards.
“What was that?” Haern asked the shopkeeper.
“Sounds like a hanging,” the burly smith said. “You look new here, so go have a look. Shame I’ll miss the fun,
