Page 42 of The Infernal Battalion

Cora nodded, her eyes going beyond the line of ships. “Viadre.” She looked at Dorsay again. “Will the Great Market be open in the rain?”

Dorsay snorted. “If it closed whenever it rained, we’d only have a market four days a year. You know the saying about Borelgai seasons? We have three.”

“Cold rain, colder rain, and snow,” Raesinia finished. “No wonder your people have such an affinity for the sea. You practically have to swim even on land.”

“Exactly. I’m the odd one because I prefer a good horse to a deck under my feet.” Dorsay laughed uproariously.

Raesinia wondered if they’d have to fight for a berth, but the courier ships had their own pier, patrolled by red-​uniformed guards. The Prudence docked with no delays, and the captain made a ceremony of handing over the official courier bag to a waiting mail coach, which took off at a gallop. Another pair of carriages, considerably more ornate, had been provided for the queen and her escort. Raesinia, her guards, and Eric took one, while Cora and the servants accompanied the baggage. The driver set a sedate pace, and Raesinia looked out through rain-​glazed windows as they wound through Harborside. Viadre had a very different look from Vordan City, quite apart from the constant rain—​the houses were almost all brick, instead of timber and plaster, and they had many stories and steeply canted roofs.

“I’ve met with the ambassador,” Eric said, opening a folded sheaf of paper. “While a formal reception will take some time to arrange, he assures me that His Majesty will want to welcome you immediately. We’ll go directly to the palace.”

“Cora will want to go into the city and see the market,” Raesinia said, most of her attention still on the window. It seemed like such a gloomy place. How do they live without ever seeing the sun? “I assume we won’t talk about anything important today?”

“Ah... probably not, Your Highness.” Eric looked down at his papers. “Word of our coming has only just arrived, so I imagine they’ll want to discuss among themselves before setting up a meeting of consequence.”

“What about these Honest Fellows? The king’s advisers. Do you know anything about them?”

Her tone must have been harsher than she intended. Eric’s eyes widened. “O-only a little, Your Highness. I can, of course, have more information prepared.”

Once again Raesinia found herself wishing for Sothe. If her old friend had been at her side, Raesinia would never have gone into a meeting without knowing who was present and what their allegiances were. Not to mention a standing offer to have them quietly killed. It wasn’t that she approved of assassination as a political tactic, but the knowledge made her a little more comfortable. It wasn’t Eric’s fault, of course. He’s a fine political adviser. He’s just not the Gray Rose.

It took close to an hour to make the trip to the palace, which the Borelgai referred to simply as the Keep. Unlike in Ohnlei, the estate of the Borelgai kings was in the very center of their capital, not far from the site of the Great Market. Where Ohnlei was a creation of the modern age, laid out by Farus V in an effort to compete with his father’s glory, the Keep was an actual fortress, built for defense in a time before cannonballs. The curtain wall stood thirty feet high, studded with square towers and lined with a crenellated battlement. Raesinia saw dark figures walking back and forth atop it, keeping watch as the king’s men might have done five hundred years before. The carriage passed underneath a mammoth gatehouse, through a tunnel that felt more like something bored out of native rock.

Ohnlei had always seemed to Raesinia to be a place of air and light, with enormous, expensive windows and mirrored halls, vast grounds set with perfectly manicured plants and elaborate fountains. The Keep felt claustrophobic by comparison, crammed in behind its ancient stone walls like a dense city block instead of a country estate. Beyond the gatehouse was a large square, lined with tall brick buildings. Streets led off to the left and right, and Raesinia could see more structures packed cheek-by-jowl, right up against the walls. Ahead, a wider road led to the Keep proper, what had been the inner sanctum of the old fortress.

This, at least, had been modernized, though the facade still looked appropriately medieval. Broad windows and dozens of chimneys hinted at more up-to-date comforts, and the steady glow of gaslights illuminated the entryway, protected by stained-​glass covers from the endless rain. Borelgai Life Guards, distinguished by the white furs on their shakos, stood to attention as the carriages passed by, ignoring the splashes from the iron-​rimmed wheels. Another gate loomed.

They finally halted in a covered yard, the rain drumming on the roof overhead. A black-​liveried servant, flanked by a pair of Life Guards, bowed deeply as the carriage door opened and Raesinia descended.

“Your Highness,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Welcome to the Keep. I regret that we have only lately been informed of your visit and so cannot receive you in the fashion you deserve.”

“I understand,” Raesinia said. “News can scarcely outrun one of your courier ships, after all.”

“His Majesty has been informed of your arrival and has indicated he would be pleased to receive you in private. However, he asked me to convey that if you wish to retire for a time beforehand, he will not take offense. He understands the rigors of travel are taxing.”

Raesinia looked down at herself. Her dress wasn’t exactly informal, but it certainly wasn’t the sort of thing in which one would ordinarily choose to meet foreign royalty. Moreover, it was still slightly damp from the rain and a bit rumpled from the ride. Mistress Lagovil would have insisted that she change into something more suitable, and probably bathe.

The hell with it. The whole point of this visit was that she wasn’t here to observe diplomatic niceties. Maybe being a little unkempt will impress the king with the urgency of the situation.

“I would be happy to attend on His Majesty at once. Can someone show my servants to our chambers?”

“Of course.”

“Eric,” Raesinia said over her shoulder. “Get everything set up, would you? And see that Cora has an escort to the market.”

“But—” Eric decided that this wasn’t the place to argue. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Do you two need a rest?” Raesinia said to Barely.

She shook her head. “Not unless you need us to put on dress blues.”

“Later.” She turned back to the servant. “Lead the way, then.”

“I am Sebastian Carter, majordomo.” He bowed again. “It’s my pleasure to be of service.”

*

Sebastian led them rapidly down a series of corridors. It seemed to Raesinia that this was not the part of the Keep normally shown to foreign dignitaries, since some of the halls they traversed were quite plain, with no carpets and only whitewash on the walls. Eventually they emerged through a discreet servants’ door into something more recognizable as royal splendor, with the arms of Borel alternating with the Pulwer crest every few yards along the walls. A double door at the end of the hall, attended by another pair of Life Guards, was carved with an elaborate bas-​relief of a ship in heavy seas.