Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (18 page)

Koal dipped the very tip of the feathered quill into the inkwell. “NezReth has assured me they won’t be.”

“They will not be,” NezReth reiterated. He stood in a shadowy enclave on the far side of the suite, violet eyes ever vigilant as they scanned the garden outside.

The ambassador nodded his head, offering no further debate. “I trust your judgment, mage.”

Magic
, Joel concluded.
He’ll ward the message with protective magic before Father sends it to King Rishi.
He’d heard of such a thing before. Mages would often enchant a message containing particularly important news so if anyone false attempted to open it, the parchment would burst into flames or the ink would bleed so the words were illegible.

A light tapping sound came from the door just then, and the conversation ground to a halt. Koal looked up from the parchment paper. “I imagine that’s our call for breakfast.”

When no one else made a move to answer the door, Joel sighed and slipped out of his seat.
I might as well make myself useful for something
. He trotted across the room and grasped the brass door handle, wishing he knew how to command the door to swing open with a flick of his wrist, as Adrian Titus had demonstrated was possible. He pulled the door open.

A young man stood in the hallway and jumped to attention as the door hinges squealed. He wore a plain white tunic much like any of the other servants Joel had seen, though the embroidered gold thread on his sleeves and silken belt around his waist seemed out of place for such a lowly rank. Although the color of his hair was darker than most in this land, his complexion was as fair as any of them, and a pair of inquisitive green eyes measured Joel in a not unfriendly way.

“Greetings,” said the newcomer, his voice a soft tenor. He bent forward in a cordial bow. “I am Kirk Bhadrayu, mage trainee and apprentice of Archmage Adrian Titus.”

Politely, Joel tipped his own head forward. “My name is Joel Adelwijn, understudy ambassador and mage of Silver City.”

The young man smiled—a genuine smile, the first Joel had witnessed since arriving in Teivel. Such a show of emotion surprised him after all the scowls he’d received in the throne room.

“Well met, Joel Adelwijn,” Kirk replied. “My master has sent me to see to it your party is comfortable.”

His smile was infectious, and Joel found himself smiling back, despite his somber mood.

“Thank you. We are.” Joel moved aside and motioned for the other man to enter the suite. “Please, come inside, if you’d like.”

“O–oh, no, that’s all right.” Kirk looked at the floor, a faint blush coming to his cheeks, and Joel had to wonder if he’d mistakenly said something offensive.

Trying to salvage the situation, Joel cleared his throat and asked, “Might you know when breakfast will be served?”

Kirk’s eyes lit up. “Your meal is awaiting you. That’s actually the main reason I came to introduce myself. If you’re ready, I can take your party there right now.”

When Joel turned to ask the other envoys, not one of them objected.
 

The mage trainee, Kirk, led them to a beautiful courtyard, shaded by a canopy billowing in the light breeze. Beneath it was the most exquisite table Joel had ever seen. Carved from smooth alabaster, it was at least twenty hands in length and sparkled brighter than sunlight reflecting off a winter landscape. Even the table legs were luxurious—each carved in the shape of a dragon and made to look as though they were holding the weight of the tabletop with their talons.

Joel’s stomach gurgled at the sight of all the bountiful food waiting for them. Bread so fresh it was still steaming tumbled out of wicker baskets, and platters of colorful fruit and roasted meats made his mouth water. As they took their seats around the table, a pair of servants filled their goblets with wine.

Kirk, who had been standing to the side of the table, cleared his throat as the envoys began to serve themselves. “Once you’ve eaten your fill, His Grace, Emperor Sarpedon, has requested your presence in the council chamber. You can ask any of the servants to lead you there. I will take my leave now, but my master has charged me with your well-being for the duration of your visit, so if you need anything, request a servant to find me immediately.”

“Of course,” replied Koal. “I speak for all of us when I say we are most grateful for our host’s hospitality.”

Kirk bowed and departed without another word.

Joel took his time filling his plate. Such a wide variety of foods were offered that he had a hard time choosing what to sample first. Passing on the roasted quail, he opted to try melon and the small, sticky purple fruits Cenric called figs. The party ate in silence for some time, and despite his growling stomach, Joel found himself pushing his food around rather than eating it.

His mind kept dwelling on the conversation he’d overheard between his father and NezReth—and it worried him deeply. Like so much else about this city, the Emperor’s youth was a conundrum. Had Emperor Sarpedon somehow learned to stop the natural progression of aging and, if so, by what means?
Something is very wrong about all of this. The magically controlled weather, Sarpedon’s agelessness, the complete waste of magical resources everywhere I look—where is the Northern Empire getting all the energy to maintain this way of life?

Birds twittered above the canopy, interrupting his dark musings, and Joel raised his face to watch them. His eyes widened at what he saw.
Not birds. What in the two worlds?

Strange little winged creatures perched along the tops of the pillars, chirping like songbirds. Indeed, their feathered wings and beaks were reminiscent of a falcon, yet the lower halves of their bodies were covered in hardened scales, and long, reptilian tails sprouted from their hindquarters. Joel had never seen such an oddity before.

He looked across the table at Cenric. “What are those things?”

“Cockatrices,” the ambassador replied, turning to watch the strange creatures as they fluttered and squeaked.

Joel shook his head. “What?”

“It is rumored,” NezReth explained in a quiet voice, “that the cockatrices are descendants of true dragons. Many centuries ago, before the dragons were driven to extinction, Imperial mages used magic to fuse young dragonlings with various animals. Through trial and error, they essentially created three new species—the basilisk, manticore, and of course, the cockatrice. Of the three, the cockatrice thrived.”

Cenric chuckled. “Yes. The Empire did a fantastic job creating a new pest to infest the city. Though, I’ll admit, they’re more aesthetically pleasing than rats.”

Joel scrutinized the tiny, chattering reptiles, finding it difficult to believe they were descendants of the majestic, fire-breathing dragons he’d read about in the
Tales of Fae
. Somehow they seemed but a cruel parody of their beautiful ancestors. Joel frowned. The idea of warping magic in such a way didn’t sit well in his stomach. Were the Imperial mages so arrogant they believed they had the right to experiment on living creatures?

“Of course, the cockatrices’ super speed makes them quite useful to the Empire,” Cenric continued. “I’m sure they would have been eliminated completely if they didn’t make such fine messengers.”

“Super speed?” Hasain asked as he filled his plate with fresh fruit and bread.

“Yes. They can travel astonishingly fast over long distances.”

A smug smile crossed Hasain’s lips. “Arden’s messenger pigeons can do the same.”

“Ah, but the cockatrice is capable of flying so fast their form cannot be seen by the naked eye,” Cenric replied, giving Hasain a wry smile of his own. “In one day, they can cover the distance a pigeon would take weeks to traverse. How else do you think we were able to get a response back to the Northern Empire so fast when they requested we come to Teivel?”

Hasain refocused his attention onto his plate. He shrugged, and Joel could tell by the faint shade of pink on Hasain’s cheeks he knew he’d been bested and was having trouble admitting it to himself.

The party ate in silence after that, though the cockatrices continued to chirp above, almost as if they were serenading the envoys. A gentle breeze blew through the terrace, rustling Joel’s raven hair and cooling the humid air just enough to be comfortable. Joel wondered in passing how the people outside the inner city were faring. How cold was it beyond the borders of this magical paradise? He frowned, wondering if Emperor Sarpedon and his wealthy patricians ever thought of the unfortunate people beyond the dome. Did they even care?

All at once, the silence came crashing down as a small army of servants and courtiers made their way into the courtyard. Girls with pearls around their necks and draped in fine silk gowns giggled and chatted while servants scampered at their heels with extravagant parasols held high to keep the sun from reaching the ladies’ eyes. No one in the procession paid the dining envoys any heed. Indeed, all their attention seemed to be centered on one person within the group. The courtier ladies were all but hanging from the arm of a young man.

He couldn’t have been any older than Liro or Hasain, and he carried himself with the overzealous confidence of a person born into nobility. He swept onto the terrace with his entourage trailing behind his long cape. Wispy curls crowned the youth’s head, and the sea silk tunic wrapped around his lean body matched his golden hair as though it had been planned that way. Two blue eyes fell upon the envoys, and Joel could detect a trace of condescension behind the boy’s reserved stare.

“Ah,” he called out in a crisp baritone voice. “These must be our visitors from Arden.”

Joel cast a glance at Cenric, as though the mentor could silently answer all his questions.
Who is this? Should we bow to him?

“Greetings,” the man continued. “I am Prince Alerio Sarpedon, first of my name and son of His Grace, Emperor Lichas Sarpedon. It gives me great pleasure to meet you, envoys. I’ll be dining with you this fine morning.”

Joel blinked in shock and could see that even Cenric appeared to be surprised.
This is the prince? Why is he here? And why weren’t we informed we would be dining with him?

Koal began to rise from his cushioned seat, but the prince motioned for him to stay where he was. “Please, stay seated. No doubt you have all endured a long journey and are famished. Sit and enjoy the bounty of the Empire.” With the flick of a wrist, he turned and dismissed his gaggle of courtiers. The ladies played the game flawlessly, batting flirtatious eyelashes and uttering coy words of longing as they wished their prince farewell.

Prince Alerio sat down at the head of the table, and the servants who had followed him onto the terrace rushed to make him comfortable and fill his goblet with wine. One servant even held a parasol above the prince’s head to keep the sun from his eyes.

Joel watched, dumbfounded. He’d never seen anything like this before. Not one of his royal cousins back home would have sat back and allowed their servants to do so much.
But then again, King Rishi and Aunt Dahlia always encouraged them to be independent. Just because they were born into privilege didn’t mean they couldn’t do things for themselves
. Obviously things were different here in the Northern Empire.

Koal bowed his head instead and proceeded to introduce the Ardenian envoys. Prince Alerio nodded amiably as each member of the party was announced, although the way his eyes tended to wander around the table suggested he was already bored. As Joel sampled the delicious melon on his plate, he watched the prince out of the corner of his eye. While not as calculating as the Emperor himself, something about Prince Alerio’s demeanor didn’t quite sit well with Joel.
He’s more than just a pampered royal. He’s dangerous. I can feel it
.

“Tell me, envoys,” Prince Alerio said as he popped a grape into his mouth. “What is your impression of the Imperial palace thus far?”

Cenric spoke first, giving Koal a much needed reprieve. “The palace is magnificent, Your Highness. Truly a masterpiece of art and craftsmanship. To be guests within these splendid walls is a great honor.”

Alerio puffed up like a strutting peacock, and Joel had to wonder if the prince had asked the question simply to have his ego stroked.
Though judging by his entourage of courtiers, he’s quite at home with both attention and flattery and needs no more of either
.