1 State of Grace Page 12

  “Da, Comrade Major,” she said again.

  Then she turned and marched out of his office. He watched her go, admiring her behind as she did. She was so faithful, so talented. He regretted putting her in the way of this kind of potential harm. She was also the best agent he had, and the one he trusted more than any other. She was the best choice for this mission. Still, his heart ached to see her go.

  The uneasy feeling in his stomach continued to grow. He feared it would soon make him nauseous.

  Chapter 14: An Unexpected Pleasure

  (Two Days before Revelation Day)

  Wolf’s carriage, drawn by four large, black stallions, pulled up to Silverleaf’s villa in mid-afternoon. The sun was hot, and the air was dry. He felt as though the moisture was being sucked from his body, and he was made all the more uncomfortable by the fact he had finally dressed in clothes befitting an ambassador. He wore a cream-colored, stuffed tunic with a high collar, and green leggings. The fabric didn’t breathe, it itched, and the collar was tight. He hated his family for disowning him upon their discovery he was a Shadow, but, at times like these, he thought he might have gotten the better end of the deal, not having to wear ridiculous, uncomfortable clothes to maintain a proper appearance in court.

  Outside the carriage, the earth was barren. The ground was hard, cracked, and dry, and what few plants he saw were dying. Not far from the compound was a forest, but it too looked sickly. Like much of the rest of Alfar he had seen so far, the land looked blighted, dying a slow, ignoble death. It saddened him.

  The villa itself was composed of several large buildings built of solid wood, reddish in color – oak, Wolf thought. It was surrounded by a tall wooden wall of the same color, but he observed no parapets or guards patrolling it. There was a sentry at the gate, who looked more like a servant than a soldier. He wore a grey tunic and pants, stitched with what Wolf presumed was Silverleaf’s family crest. There was a large leaf in the center and a number of other images surrounding it Wolf didn’t recognize. He thought one might be a stag, but it was hard to tell. Wolf didn’t see a weapon of any sort on his person. The guard ushered the carriage through without complaint when told it contained the Urlish Ambassador to Alfar.

  Inside the wall, things changed. Lush plants decorated a large courtyard, servants moved back and forth somewhat cheerfully, and the light seemed a little softer and friendlier than outside the compound. Wolf assumed this was some magical force at work, but he couldn’t really tell. Since arriving in Alfar, his Shadow sight had detected magic everywhere. The whole place seemed to glow, albeit in a sickly sort of fashion. Here, things looked healthier, but Wolf couldn’t tell if it was because a spell had been cast, or if the wall somehow kept out the decay that was afflicting the rest of the country.

  The carriage pulled around to the door of the main house, and Wolf stepped out into the heat. To his surprise, a breeze blew, gently cooling him. He had no time to consider it, though, because he was presently met by a tall elf in a long, green robe with a very serious expression on his face. He was thin, balding, and stared at Wolf imperiously.

  “I am Lightwater,” the elf said. “Who are you, and what business have you here?”

  “Wolf Dasher, Ambassador from Her Majesty’s Government to Alfar,” Wolf said with a smile and a bow. He adopted the affable fool persona he’d played at the Dubonney Club. “I’m here to visit Ambassador Silverleaf.”

  “The ambassador is not presently at home,” Lightwater replied, a strong note of disdain in his voice. “Are you expected?”

  “Not exactly,” Wolf said.

  “Then I’m afraid—”

  “But I am invited,” Wolf continued. “When we met in Urland, the ambassador invited me to visit him at his villa the next time I was in Alfar. With my recent appointment by Her Majesty, the Queen, this turned out to be the next time.”

  “Be that as it may,” Lightwater said, clearly growing irritated, “I was not informed of your visit in advance, and the ambassador sees no one without an appointment. Furthermore, he is not presently at home, so there is no purpose to your visit.”

  “Well, I can wait for him to return,” Wolf said with a broad smile. “When is he expected back?”

  “Tomorrow, but—”

  “Well that’s perfect!” Wolf said. “I can stay tonight and visit with him when he arrives.”

  “No, that won’t be acceptable—”

  “For shame, Lightwater,” a familiar voice said behind the elf. “Monsieur Dasher eez a foreign noble. ’E should be made comfortable immediately.”

  Lightwater turned with obvious irritation. Behind him, Wolf saw Simone de Beausoir. She wore a simple, silk robe that clung to her body delightfully. The neckline was low to offer a tantalizing near-glimpse of her breasts. She smiled at Wolf, looking radiant as a result.

  “You have no authority, Human,” Lightwater said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You may be the master’s mistress, but you are not his wife.”

  “Eet does not matter,” she said, fixing him with a glare. “I am zee lady of zee ’ouse. I ’ave some privileges, one of wheech eez to entertain guests. Monsieur Dasher is a guest of zee ambassador. I ’eard Sagaius invite eem ’ere myself. Let ’eem in, or I will tell Sagaius you refused to admit an invited guest and a state official.”

  Wolf thought steam might come from Lightwater’s ears. He clearly thought Simone had no right to speak to him this way, and it appeared he would have liked nothing more than to send her packing. However, it was also clear her threat was real, and she might not be bluffing about Wolf’s importance and his invitation.

  “Very well,” Lightwater said through his teeth after a moment. “Please accept our hospitality, Ambassador Dasher.” He stood aside so Wolf could enter.

  “Charles,” Wolf called to his driver, “have the staff show you where to quarter yourself and the carriage.”

  “Yes, sir,” his driver replied.

  Wolf strode in confidently past Lightwater as though this sort of thing happened all the time and was no bother whatsoever. The elf shut the door behind him and fixed Simone with a cruel look.

  “This isn’t over, Mademoiselle Beausoir,” he said. “You can be sure I will consult the master about the validity of Mr. Dasher’s invitation and his credentials.”

  “And you weel find zat I described zem accurately,” she shot back. “Now stop threatening me and see Monsieur Dasher to ’eez quarters. And ’ave a formal deenair prepared for seven o’clock.

  “Unteel zees evening, Ambassador.”

  She winked at Wolf, turned, and strode off. He stood watching her go. Her robe clung deliciously to her behind, and she made certain to swing it for him as she departed.

  “Charming girl,” he said, turning to Lightwater with a smile on his face.

  “This way,” was the elf’s only response before leading Wolf up a staircase.

  ***

  Wolf found his accommodations sumptuous. The entire house was made of carved wood, and it was smooth and shiny as though it had been lacquered. Upon careful observance, he discovered that the walls, the floor, and even some of the furnishings seemed to throb with a low-level magical pulse. He could not determine the source of this enchantment, but it was clear the entire house was bewitched somehow.

  His quarters were large and provided him with a gigantic bed with a feather-stuffed mattress, a handsomely carved wardrobe that depicted images of elves laughing and playing in the sun, and a bath, the water of which was pleasantly warm. In fact, the water temperature did not change in all the time Wolf spent in the quarters. The sheets were satin, the glassware at the small bar crystalline, and the air was refreshing. Silverleaf didn’t suffer when he was at home.

  Wolf wasted no time in bathing. He was hot, sweaty, and sore from the ride here, although he had to admit that Quincy’s special carriage was exquisitely comfortable. He stripped off the hateful court clothes and plunged himself into the warm waters, letting his troubles soak away for awhile.
>
  He reflected he had been fortunate Simone interceded on his behalf. He hadn’t had a backup plan if he’d been refused entry. He supposed he would have simply waited until tomorrow for Silverleaf to return. He would have to be careful while he was here. Lightwater didn’t like or trust Simone, and he was sure to be on his guard since she had insisted on letting a stranger into his master’s house. It was clear the ambassador’s servant shared his master’s loathing of the human presence in Alfar.

  Still, being here without Silverleaf being home was a real stroke of luck. He resolved to have a covert look around after dinner. Perhaps Simone could prove useful in that regard.

  After his bath, he slipped into his bed and let exhaustion take him. He would need energy for what he had to do later tonight.

  ***

  Wolf had just finished dressing when there was a knock on his door. He wore clothes of a rich red – a deliberate attempt to impress Simone.

  “Come,” he called.

  The door opened, and Lightwater stood in front of it looking thoroughly perturbed.

  “Dinner is ready, Ambassador,” he said as though the words were odious to him.

  Wolf smiled a thanks and left the room to accompany him. Lightwater led him to the dining room in silence. He made no remarks whatsoever on the intricate carvings on the walls, the immaculate shine of the wood, or of the beauty of the manse. He simply led Wolf down the stairs, through a lengthy hall and into a large room with a long table. It was set with two places, one on each of its long ends. Several candelabra occupied the space in between, all with their candles lit.

  Lightwater gestured Wolf to take one of the chairs, looking as though he had just offered it to a very dirty dog. Wolf was about to sit when Simone entered from the other side of the room. She had used the intervening hours to make herself exquisitely beautiful. Like Wolf, she wore red. Her gown had long, tight sleeves that were trimmed in pink lace, and the neckline, also laced in pink, plunged nearly to her waist. Her breasts stretched the fabric apart, but they appeared secure in her garment, a fact Wolf couldn’t help but find disappointing. The skirt hung deftly off her hips and trailed to her ankles ending in another ring of pink lace. She wore her hair up and decorated it with numerous ivory combs. She looked even lovelier than when he saw her at the Dubonney Club.

  She smiled at him when she arrived, but when her eyes fell on the table, her expression changed to one of anger.

  “Lightwater,” she said, speaking his name like a curse, “what eez zees? Monsieur Dasher and I will not be able to converse seeting at opposite ends of ze table. We would ’ave to shout to ’ear each ozzer.”

  “You requested a formal dinner, Mademoiselle,” he replied, unable to hide a nasty grin. “As is customary, I have set the lady of the house at one end of the table, and, in the absence of the host, the honored guest at the head.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “You know very well eet would be imposseebla for us to talk. Move my setting to Monsieur Dasher’s left immediately.”

  “But of course, Mademoiselle,” he said, flashing her another cruel smile. Then he clapped his hands and two servants in grey robes entered. “Please move Mademoiselle Beausoir’s place settings to Ambassador Dasher’s left,” he instructed.

  Simone and Lightwater fixed each other with imperious gazes as the dishes were moved. Neither spoke or even moved until the last piece of silverware was set. Wolf wasn’t sure whether to be worried or amused.

  Simone stalked down the length of the table, still without taking her eyes off Lightwater. When she arrived at her chair, the servants pulled it back for her. She sat, at last breaking off her stare from the churlish steward. When she was pushed in and comfortable, Wolf seated himself.

  “Zank you, Lightwater,” she said without looking at him. “You are deesmeesed. We won’t be needing your services any furzzer tonight.”

  Lightwater didn’t move right away. He stared at her, perhaps trying to determine her intent.

  “As you wish,” he said. He looked at the servants and said in Elfin, “Watch them.” Then he strode out. Wolf was grateful for the translating power of Quincy’s medallion.

  He turned his attention to Simone and smiled. But she was giving him a concerned look.

  “Parlez vous, Galliçais?” she asked.

  “Oui,” he replied. He didn’t need the medallion for this conversation. He spoke Gallican.

  “That’s good,” she said, switching to her native language. “Lightwater will no doubt spy on us, but he doesn’t speak Gallican. We can converse freely.”

  “We’ll still need to be careful,” Wolf said. “He instructed his servants to watch us.”

  “You speak Elfin?” she said, raising her eyebrows. It was extremely sexy.

  “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good ambassador to Alfar if I didn’t,” he quipped, flashing her a winning smile.

  She looked him up and down, assessing him. He gave her the affable fool look. A cagey smile crept across her lips.

  “So, Monsieur Dasher,” she began, “your appearance here is an unexpected pleasure. To what do I owe the honor?”

  “As I said,” he replied, “Ambassador Silverleaf invited me to his home, and this was the next time I was available.”

  She studied him further. Wolf kept smiling as though he had nothing to hide.

  “This can’t be coincidence,” she said at last.

  “What?”

  “Your appearance here so soon after our meeting in Urland,” she replied. “You offered to buy me a drink at the Dubonney Club when you had no reason to do so. You must have known that would offend Sagaius. And then you sharked him at Conquest, costing him a very large sum of money. Now you turn up here while he is away, claiming to be the new ambassador from Urland to Alfar. You are playing at something, Monsieur Dasher.”

  “I am?” Wolf tried to look innocent.

  “Come now, Monsieur Dasher,” she said, mock scolding him. “I may be a beautiful Gallican woman who’s bedding an Alfari ambassador, but I am not a fool.”

  “Touché.”

  “So what are you playing at?” she asked again.

  He was about to reply when they were interrupted by the arrival of the soup. The servants set bowls in front of them. Wolf looked down to see a thick, black liquid – so thick, in fact, it reminded him more of stew than of soup – with a pungent smell.

  “Damn Lightwater anyway,” Simone cursed.

  “Why,” Wolf asked, looking up from the soup.

  “He’s screwing with us.”

  “How so?”

  “The meal,” she answered. “He’s using the excuse of my ordering a formal dinner to prepare the Sunluvai.”

  “The what?”

  “The traditional Feast of the Revelation,” she said. “Revelation Day is two days away. It’s the most sacred holiday on the Elfin calendar. It celebrates the day Frey revealed to the elves their destiny.

  “The Sunluvai depicts the joy of that enlightenment through food. The first course is muktada, a bean soup with a bitter taste. It symbolizes the bitterness of life before Frey. Most elves only eat it because they have to. It’s awful.”

  Wolf looked at the soup again. The foul smell didn’t portend good things. He actually found himself a little afraid to eat it.

  Still, he admired Lightwater’s plan. He was determined to avenge himself on Simone for admitting Wolf to the house, and this meal was an excellent means. Well, two could play that game.

  “Well,” Wolf said, “since we’re about to have a dining adventure, I suggest wine – a lot of it. It will improve our inclination for adventure and possibly make some of the food taste palatable.” She giggled – a delightful sound.

  “And what wine do you suggest will be strong enough to do battle with muktada?” she asked.

  Wolf looked at the black morass in his bowl doubtfully. He suspected this was going to be difficult.

  “We’ll start with cabernet,” he answered. “It’s heavy, so
it should match well with the body of the soup, and it’s not sweet, so it won’t make the soup worse.”

  Simone laughed uproariously. Then she put her head on her hand and rewarded him with a beaming smile.

  “Ah, Monsieur Dasher,” she sighed. “You may just make this evening one of my most pleasant in Alfar.”

  “Well, don’t judge me too soon,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve plenty of time to make a mistake.”

  “I find it difficult to believe you could,” she said sultrily.

  He pulled his eyes away from her and addressed one of the servants.

  “You there,” he said, mentally triggering the medallion to allow him to speak Elfin. “A bottle of the best cabernet you have on hand.”

  The servant’s eyes opened wide, and he hesitated a moment, before murmuring a, “Yes, Ambassador,” and exiting to the kitchen.

  “What did you tell him?” Simone asked.

  “I instructed him to bring us the best wine in the house,” Wolf answered in Gallican.

  Like the servant’s, Simone’s eyes widened. Then she laughed again.

  “Sagaius will be furious,” she said.

  “Of course,” Wolf said. “But we’ll blame it on Lightwater.”

  Simone’s laugh became more joyful still; her smile even brighter. Wolf was becoming deeply attracted to her. He was going to have to be careful.

  Presently, the wine arrived. Wolf toasted Simone and then started his muktada. It was terrible. The broth was so overpoweringly bitter it obscured the flavor of the beans. The consistency of it was thick, and Wolf found that satisfying – or he would have if it had tasted better. Truthfully, it wasn’t the bitterness that turned him off it; it was the intensity.

  Despite that, he was determined to appear foolish, so as to continue to disarm Simone and Silverleaf’s household servants. He wanted no discrepancies between the character he played in Urland, and the one now in Alfar. Thus, he ate it all and made all manner of silly comments about it. He also drank two-and-a-half glasses of wine to wash it down.