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Authors: Greg Strandberg

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BOOK: The Jongurian Mission
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Halam looked down at the table.
“Not that it did me any good,” he said.

“Oh nonsense, my good man
! I doubt you’d be here representing your province if you’d not shown such fine valor on the field during those three days.”

“Perhaps not,” Halam begrudgingly admitted.

“What about you, Rodden,” Bryn asked, looking across the table at the man. “Didn’t you fight in either war?”

“Oh yes, Bryn, I sure did,” he said with a smile.
“I fought the Jongurians tooth-and-nail every night in my dreams,” he laughed, slapping Halam on the back.

“You see, Bryn,” Halam said smiling, “Rodden was too young to fight in the first war, and I give him grief about it constantly.”

“I did manage to see a bit of action at Baden,” Rodden said, becoming serious again. “I was part of the allied charge that was bloodily repelled on the first day. I got very lucky; many of the friends I made in the army were not so fortunate.” He looked down into his wine glass, thinking back on those days.

A few minutes of silence passed at the table as each man thought about the friends and acquaintances they knew who had fought and died in both bloody wars.
Except for the past five years, Adjuria had been at war for nearly twenty years. Many promising young men and boys had perished in both conflicts. People still grumbled that nothing had come out of the conflict with Jonguria and that life was better when the two countries could trade freely. Not too many spoke that way about the Civil War.

“Perhaps we should think about calling it a night soon,” Halam said after a time.

“Yes, it’s been a long day,” Rodden said. “What time does the conference convene in the morning, Orin?”

“Early,” Orin replied.
“Breakfast will be served here shortly after dawn. The delegates will then convene in the war room.” He thought for a moment, looking upward toward the ceiling. “Sorry, the name has recently been changed to the ‘map’ room. I keep forgetting.”

“I hope things do
n’t get that out of hand,” Rodden said with a smile. “After all, trade disputes have been known to lead to fighting.”

“Yes, let us hope it doesn’t come to that,” Orin said with a laugh.
“No, the reason that room was chosen is that it is large enough to accommodate all of the delegates plus a few retainers each, and no more. When Brun and Pritt saw how many people were traveling with the delegates as they began to arrive last week, they knew that a space was required to keep out the overflow of guests.”

“Good,” Halam said, “this is a conference of trade.
There will surely be all sorts of people who have other agendas now that relations are set to be restored with Jonguria and we don’t want those distracting us from the main purpose of our being here.”

“I think that most of the other delegates feel the same as you do, Halam,” Orin said as he rose from the table.
“Now, if we exit from those side doors that the serving women have been using all night I’m sure we can find some guards to show you to your rooms.”

Halam and Rodden finished off their drinks and then stood up, Bryn not far behind.
They kept close to the walls as they made their way across the room, avoiding the more lively guests in the center of the hall. The wooden doors they came to swung both ways to accommodate servers with their hands full with trays of plates and glasses. One swung open as they approached, a young woman bringing yet more wine into the room. Rodden smiled at Orin at the sight, but Halam only looked on disapprovingly.

On the other side of the doors stretched a much smaller hallway than the one they had used to enter the great hall earlier in the evening.
The walls were not so tall, nor the furnishings as lavish. On their right were two large doors that contained the kitchens within, judging from the sounds of pots and pans clattering about and the smells of roasting meat and baking bread coming from within. Several guards stood in a group down the hall from the kitchens, and as the four men entered the hallway, two of them walked down to greet them.

“Good evening sirs,” the one in the lead said.
“Would you like to be taken to your rooms now?”

“Yes we would, but
we’re not sure where they are,” Halam said to the guard.

“Not a problem sir, we have that information.
If you’ll just follow me.”

Orin grabbed Halam by the shoulder before he set off down the hall.
“I’ll bid you men goodnight now. I think I’ll go back in and have a few more conversations this night. I’ve no real responsibilities at the conference in the morning, so the lack of sleep doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, goodnight then, Orin,” Halam said, shaking his hand.
“We’ll see you tomorrow then, if not at breakfast than perhaps later at the conference?”

“Oh yes, breakfast more than likely,” he replied, turning from Halam to shake Rodden’s hand as well, then turning to Bryn.
“Well, Bryn, I hope that you do not have a completely bad impression of nobles and their ways after seeing some of the goings-on back there tonight,” he said, nodding over his shoulder at the great hall. “I’m quite sure you’ll have an entirely different picture after the proceedings tomorrow.”

“It’s been all very interesting so far, sir,” Bryn said, shaking his hand.
“Thank you for explaining so much about government and history this evening.”

Orin laughed.
“It was my pleasure, lad; a nice change from the usual tavern talk I find myself in these days. Well, goodnight then,” he said with a final wave before turning to head back into the great hall.

Halam motioned for the guard to lead them to their rooms, and the set off down the hallway.
They took several turns both right and left. The hallways were all of the same size now, and Bryn thought they must be in a different smaller part of the palace. After a while several doors began to appear on both sides of the hallway, with no discernible marks to differentiate them. The guards must count them, or judge them somehow, Bryn thought, as they continued past. After a few more turns, they stopped in front of a door which looked the exact same as all the others they’d passed by.

“Here we are gentlemen,” he said, producing a ring of keys and selecting one to fit into the door.
“You’ll find the room quite accommodating for all three of you, I believe.” The door swung open into a large room. A fire was burning in the large fireplace on the wall opposite the door, illuminating most of the room. Inside was a large rug of the same red and gold that had decorated the hallway at the entrance of the palace. The walls were decorated with paintings of fields of grain and rolling plains, as well as some richly woven tapestries of dark blues and greens. The paintings reminded Bryn of Eston, and for a moment he felt a little homesick, but it soon passed. Three large beds lay against each of the walls, and a large washstand was set close to one of them. A large armoire and several smaller tables were pushed up against the walls, and two large writing desks took up the center of the room. They must have left the center of the palace and come closer to the edge, for unlike the great hall, there were windows to let in light, although several sconces still held unlit torches on the walls.

“We took the liberty of taking the saddlebags from your horses and putting them on the tables beside the beds,” the guard said.
“Is the room to your satisfaction?”

“Oh yes, quite so,” Halam said quickly, stepping inside.
“This will do just fine.”

“Good,” said the guard.
“In the morning whenever you’re ready for breakfast just leave your room. Guards will escort you back to the great hall and then to the conference.” He stood a few more moments in the doorway as the three men entered the room and looked around. “Will there be anything else this evening, sirs?”

“No, we are quite alright,” Rodden said.

The guard stood at attention for a moment, then spun on his heels and left the room, closing the door behind him.

They each found which bed had their possessions, and put everything in order.
Rodden went to wash up at the washstand, while Halam took out a few shirts to hang in the dressing closet. Bryn had nothing important to hang, but washed up when Rodden was done. Halam grabbed the poker next to the fireplace and adjusted the logs so that the light in the room diminished to a faint glow.

“We should get some sleep,” he said, “we’ve got an important day bef
ore us and it’s already late.”

“Aye,” Rodden agreed as he stripped of his tunic and pants and began to adjust his bed.

Bryn did the same, putting his shoes under the bed and taking off his travel-stained clothing. He hoped that he would be able to find a time to wash them over the next few days. It would be quite uncomfortable to ride back to Tillatia with them still dirty. If nothing else, he figured he could find a good stream or river to clean them in on the way back. The three said goodnight and lay down in their beds, which Bryn found too soft after a week on the road, but in a few moments all was forgiven as he fell asleep.

 

NINE

 

The early morning sun shining through the room’s small window slits woke Bryn. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The fire from the night before had burned down to glowing embers. Bryn pulled out the cleanest shirt and pants from his travel pack, wiping off the dust stains as best he could before putting them on. He took a cloth from near the washbasin and wiped at the mud stains on his shoes. He wanted to look his best today, or as good as he could with his limited supply of clothing.

As usual, Halam was already
up and dressed, trimming at his beard in the mirror above the washstand, while Rodden was just getting up out of bed.

“Morning,” Rodden said to Bryn as he stood up and did some stretches.
“The big day is upon us at last,” he said smiling.

“I shouldn’t think we’ll have any trouble getting you into the hall this morning, Bryn,” Halam said over his shoulder as he tilted his head up to get a better angle on the whiskers under his chin.
“From what Orin said last night, each delegate will be allowed a couple of advisors into the meeting with him. It sounds like most of the delegates brought half of their provinces with them, so they’ll have some tough choices to make; but for us the task’ll be quite simple.”

Bryn saw his uncle’s beard move up in a smile at the last remark.
He wondered how interesting the conference would be. The way Orin had made it sound last night, all the provinces were in agreement on restarting trade. Would they all sit down in the hall and take a vote on who wanted to trade, and with all arms going up in the air, quickly bring a close to the meeting and head home? No, that would be silly, Bryn thought. People didn’t travel the length and breadth of Adjuria to simply raise an affirmative hand on the trade issue. The situation was much more complicated than that.

As if reading his mind, Rodden patted Bryn on the shoulder.
“You should be in for quite a lively debate today, Bryn. While everyone will want trade, the question will be how much of it they can get, and how much of it they have to give over to their neighboring provinces.” He smiled as he turned to look at Halam’s reflection in the mirror. “We’ll have it quite easy, I suspect, only having to negotiate with Millen Fron. Other provinces’ trade goods overlap with more than just one province.”

“Aye, I hope you
’re right,” Halam replied. “I’d rather not get into a shouting match over grain prices and shipping costs with Millen. That’ll lead nowhere.” He put down his scissors and splashed a few handfuls of water onto his face. “I intend to be as civilized and as gracious as possible toward the other provinces. There is no reason this meeting should descend into a chaos of falsities and recriminations,” he said turning toward Rodden and Bryn while wiping his face with a towel. “Now if you two are ready, I’d like to get this day started.”

Rodden
finished dressing and pulled his boots before splashing some water onto his face. “Ready,” he said, and Halam opened the door and they stepped into the hallway. A guard was there right away.

“Good morning, sirs,” he said as he produced a key from his pocket and locked the door behind them.
“I’ll show you to breakfast this morning.”

They fell in behind him and were once again making their way through the twists and turns of the palace toward the great hall.
Many other men dressed in fine clothes were also being escorted by guards from their rooms in the palace. Bryn looked from them to himself and felt underdressed. Halam may have sensed his apprehension, for he put his arm around Bryn’s shoulders as they walked down the hallways, smiling down into his face as he did so. Halam wasn’t dressed much differently from himself, still wearing the same clothes that he’d worn when he sat at the table with him and Uncle Trun back in Eston. If Halam felt comfortable with what he was wearing in the company of these men decked out in all their finery, then Bryn decided he’d not let it bother him.

They came to the same double doors they
’d exited the night before. The kitchens on their left sounded full of activity and mouth-watering smells spilled into the hallway.

The guards standing at the entrance to the great hall threw the doors open upon their approach.
The scene was markedly different from the night before. While previously Bryn had estimated the number of people to be around three hundred, this morning it seemed there was double that. Every single table and bench was full, and it looked as though more had been brought in from other areas of the palace to accommodate the large numbers. There were no minstrels playing this morning, nor any shouts coming from the center of the hall, which was now occupied by tables full of men breaking their fasts and talking quietly. A low hum of voices hung over the hall, a big difference from the laughing and shouting of the dinner feast.

BOOK: The Jongurian Mission
5.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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