The Silence of Medair

"From your voice, I would name you Kyledran. There are few in Kyledra so familiar with the customs and traditions of my people as you appear to be."

"Perhaps they have not had the opportunity to visit Athere."

"Very likely," the Kier replied, one of her pale eyebrows quirking faintly. "It was fortunate for Keridahl las Cor-Ibis that you happened past. For what reason were you in Bariback Forest?"

"I live there, Ekarrel."

"Ah. Who was it gave you the satchel?"

Medair considered that one. There was no way she could tell them the truth. Desy an Kerrat’s name was well known, and five hundred years in the past. "It would be easier if you didn’t ask me questions I am obliged to lie to answer, Ekarrel," she pointed out.

"You believe me capable of discerning your position on a question, before I ask it?" The Kier’s tone was tolerant, but the expression shared by several of her silent court suggested Medair take care.

"Yes," Medair replied, a simple, serious estimation of this woman’s abilities.

"Unfortunate. For it is the questions you do not care to answer, which I wish to ask."

"Yes, Ekarrel. That is unfortunate."

They looked at each other, Kier of conquered Palladium and Medair an Rynstar, whose very name was a secret brandished openly. The implacable gaze was Kier Ieskar’s. But there was no reason to declare enmity and Kier Inelkar eventually inclined her head.

"Perhaps you are wise enough to know that your lies would have told me almost as much as your truths. We will settle for what we can glean from your satchel, and give you our thanks, Medair ar Corleaux. Our debt will not be forgotten."

It was a dismissal. Avahn promptly came forward to lead Medair away and she went without a word. She had placed everything which was Medair an Rynstar, Herald of the Palladian Empire, into the hands of Ibisians. Everything but the truth.

Chapter Fourteen

A hall of light, heat, heady scents and noise. Muted conversation punctuated with soft laughter, the clatter of cutlery and ting of glasses. Unexpected gaiety for Ibisians. The old formalities seemed to have eroded severely in this particular facet of life. Only the sweet, sharp notes of a triband and certain spicy scents served to remind Medair of her Herald’s guesting among the enemy. That and all the pale, shining hair, of course.

At least half the hall was blonde and the majority of the rest white, but Medair was surprised to see a goodly scattering of darker shades. Farakkians, dressed as Ibisians, with jade and bloodstone and even tiger’s eye in their ears. Their presence made Medair feel queasy.

"Lathan’s here!" Avahn hissed, sounding genuinely excited as he guided her toward a table where two empty seats waited. Kept for them, Medair realised, seeing Ileaha watching them approach. Nor was Ileaha the only interested observer – all around the room pale eyes fixed on Medair and voices hushed momentarily, before returning to a more ordinary volume.

"I’ll be back in a moment," Avahn said, politely drawing out a chair before absconding. Off to talk to the triband player, whom Medair was able to glimpse in pale profile as she sat down.

"Hello Ileaha," Medair said, with a faint approximation of a smile. She didn’t quite feel any of this was real. She had given her satchel to Ibisians, and at the next table she could see a woman the very image of Jorlaise an Vedlar, her left ear studded with bloodstone.

"Kel ar Corleaux." Despite their exchange of name-gift in Finrathlar, Ileaha greeted her with formal circumspection. "How are you?"

"Much the same." Positioning her chair a little more conveniently, Medair tried to concentrate on the collection of Ibisian nobility ornamenting her end of their table. All were young, with jade in their left ears. Only one other showed the marked taint of Farakkian blood visible in Ileaha’s colouring. Their silent interest left Medair casting about for some innocuous subject, but she was saved the trouble by the young man on her left. He was a pale blond, with serious grey eyes, serene and intelligent.

"Will you not introduce us, Ileaha?" he asked.

"Of course," Ileaha replied, colourlessly. "Kerin Mylar Vehl las Cor-Ibis, Keris Surreive Alai las Varentar, Keris Estal Jhet las Estasas, Kerin Adlenkar Tiend las Cor-Ibis, this is Kel Medair ar Corleaux."

"So it’s true!" This soft, delighted exclamation broke from the lips of the handsome man directly across from Medair. "Cor-Ibis shelters a Medarist. What a magnificent joke!"

This was substantially the same reaction as Avahn’s, back in Thrence, but tonight it rankled, perhaps because he used a language she was not expected to understand. Medair had to bite back the words which rose to her lips.

"Don’t gloat, Adlenkar," the one called Surreive said, her voice weary and derisive. Her eyes were distinctively heavy-lidded. "It’s not becoming."