Blood of the Fold

Arched openings around the room covered stairways up to colonnaded balconies edged with sinuous, polished mahogany railings. The balconies were filled with people, he noticed — not finely dressed nobility like those on the main floor, but common working people. The other guests noticed, too, and cast disapproving glances up at the riffraff in the shadows behind the railings. The people crowded there stood back from the railings, as if seeking obscurity in the darkness, lest any of them should be recognized and called to account for daring to be at so grand a function. It was customary for a great man to be introduced to the people in authority first, before letting himself be known to ordinary people.

Ignoring the audience in the balcony, the guests spread out across the patterned marble floor, keeping distance between themselves and the two Blood of the Fold, and trying to make it seem accidental, rather than by intention that they avoided the two. They looked about expectantly for their host while bending to whisper among themselves. Dressed as finely as they were they almost looked to be part of the ornate carvings and decoration; none betrayed being awed by the grandeur of the Confessors' Palace. Tobias guessed that most were frequent visitors. Though he had never been to Aydindril before, he knew sycophants when he saw them; his own king had been surrounded by enough of them.

Lunetta stayed close to his side, only mildly interested in the imposing architecture around her. She took no notice of the people who stared at her, though there were fewer of those now; they were more interested in each other and in the prospect of finally meeting Lord Rahl than in worrying about an odd woman standing between two crimson-caped Blood of the Fold. Galtero's gaze swept the expansive room, ignoring the opulence and, instead, taking constant appraisal of the people, the soldiers, and the exits. The swords he and Tobias wore were not decoration.

Despite his revulsion, Tobias couldn't help marveling at where he stood. This was the spot from where the Mother Confessors and wizards had pulled the strings of the Midlands. This was where the council, for thousands of years, had stood for unity while preserving and protecting magic. This was the spot from which the Keeper's tendrils spread forth.

That unity was shattered now. Magic had lost its grip on man, lost its protection. The age of magic was ended. The Midlands was ended. Soon, the palace would be filled with crimson capes, and only the Blood of the Fold would be seated at the dais. Tobias smiled; events were moving inexorably toward a providential end.

A man and woman drifted near, purposefully, Tobias thought. The woman, with a pile of black hair and wispy curls hanging down around her painted face, leaned casually toward him. "Imagine, we are invited here, and they don't even have anything to eat." She smoothed the lace at the bosom of her yellow dress, a polite smile coming to her impossibly red lips as she waited for him to speak. He didn't, and she went on. "Seems very vulgar not to offer so much as a drop of wine, don't you think, considering that we've come on such short notice and all? I hope he doesn't expect we will accept his invitation again after treating us so boorishly."

Tobias clasped his hands behind his back. "Do you know Lord Rahl?"

"I may have met him before; I don't recall." She brushed a speck, which he couldn't see, from her bare shoulder, affording the jewels on her fingers, which even someone across the room would have been able to see, the opportunity to glitter before his eyes. "I'm invited to so many of these affairs here at the palace that I have difficulty remembering all the people who strive to meet me. After all, Duke Lumholtz and I would appear to find ourselves in a position of leadership, what with Prince Fyren having been murdered."

Her red lips plumped into a simper. "I do know that I've never met any of the Blood of the Fold here before. After all, the council has always viewed the Blood as officious, not that I'm saying I would agree, mind you, but they have forbade them from practicing their.. 'craft1 anywhere outside their homeland. Of course we would seem to be without a council, now. Quite ghastly, their being killed like they were, right here, and while they were deliberating the future course of the Midlands. What brings you here, sir?"

Tobias glanced past her to see soldiers closing the doors. He knuckled his mustache as he started wandering toward the dais. "I was 'invited, the same as you,"

Duchess Lumholtz strolled with him. "I hear that the Blood are held in high esteem by the Imperial Order."