know what I can do, my lady, but I'll try. Am--am I dressed properly?" He hoped the Guardian would assist him. The Protector often became impatient when he didn't understand something as quickly as he should.
"I'd prefer more formal garb," she said dryly.
He took the hint and finished eating. Randor went upstairs and fetched the proper clothes, then helped Tam change into them in a nearby chamber. The glittering, beaded garments proclaimed him the Protector's son to anyone with decent eyesight. Fortunately he looked elegant in the blue of his father's clan, though the outfit was nearly as heavy as armor and just as uncomfortable.
The Guardian murmured her approval, and then led him into the audience room just below his own quarters. Two chairs stood on a short dais. One was solid cameowood, with a few carvings that showed the lighter layer of wood beneath the darker one. He had always wanted to work with the satiny material, but he really wasn't good enough yet. He hoped his tools had been brought with him on the hasty journey to Lochil. The other chair was a throne-like affair with bright blue cushions on the back and seat. Lady Sigaldo motioned him towards the padded one. "You represent the power of your father's court, while mine is altogether different," she said. "Besides, those beads are likely unpleasant enough to wear already. I have sensible robes, and my bones are not so old that I need extra protection for them."
Tam hated looking like a stuffed doll on display. He'd had enough of that in Kelemath. He bowed out of courtesy, and said, "To those who know, your chair is still more valuable."
"Ah." There was a smile in her voice. "Not many see so clearly, even with magic. However, those who plead before you today will be more impressed with you, which should help."
He hoped so, and sat down. His mouth went dry as two men walked in. One was almost Randor's age, with graying dark hair, watery blue eyes, and a scraggly beard. His voice had a whine in it as he introduced himself as Lord Honnold of Drizmere, an estate to the east and south of Lochil. Tam hated him on sight, and then rebuked himself. Justice was too important to be swayed by personal preferences. He was surprised the case hadn't gone to Bogatay, a town closer to the man's holding.
Jarrett, the other man was younger and claimed to be Honnold's cousin. He had a bristly black beard and brilliant blue eyes, while his voice was deep and clear. They were obviously the men he'd heard earlier this morning.
The Guardian summarized the case. "We have a dispute over a child, a woman, and some land. The woman is named Marysalian, and she wed Lord Honnold six or seven years ago. Her family agreed to allow some of their land to go with her. No children were born for about two years. Then young Jarrett visited his cousin for a few months and then departed. There's some argument about what happened during that time, but less than a year later she had a son. Two years after that, she disappeared from the household with the boy, and neither one has been seen since. The rest of her family is also gone. Jarrett is here to claim the woman, the child, and the land given as part of her marriage contract for his own. Lord Honnold disputes that claim, and wants us to help him find his wife and son so he can welcome them back home. You may ask questions if you wish, or offer a judgment on what I've told you so far."
Tameron felt dizzy, mostly from what he could guess hadn't been said. "I would like to hear your statements for myself," he said. He already knew from Council meetings how somebody spoke was nearly as important as what they said. Commander Stine had also taught him how to watch an enemy's every movement.
Honnold gave his story first. He seemed more upset at losing the boy than his wife. The older man also accused Jarrett of spiriting both of them away.
"You drove her away!" Jarrett cried.
Lord Honnold gritted his teeth. "I have the right to speak without
"I'd prefer more formal garb," she said dryly.
He took the hint and finished eating. Randor went upstairs and fetched the proper clothes, then helped Tam change into them in a nearby chamber. The glittering, beaded garments proclaimed him the Protector's son to anyone with decent eyesight. Fortunately he looked elegant in the blue of his father's clan, though the outfit was nearly as heavy as armor and just as uncomfortable.
The Guardian murmured her approval, and then led him into the audience room just below his own quarters. Two chairs stood on a short dais. One was solid cameowood, with a few carvings that showed the lighter layer of wood beneath the darker one. He had always wanted to work with the satiny material, but he really wasn't good enough yet. He hoped his tools had been brought with him on the hasty journey to Lochil. The other chair was a throne-like affair with bright blue cushions on the back and seat. Lady Sigaldo motioned him towards the padded one. "You represent the power of your father's court, while mine is altogether different," she said. "Besides, those beads are likely unpleasant enough to wear already. I have sensible robes, and my bones are not so old that I need extra protection for them."
Tam hated looking like a stuffed doll on display. He'd had enough of that in Kelemath. He bowed out of courtesy, and said, "To those who know, your chair is still more valuable."
"Ah." There was a smile in her voice. "Not many see so clearly, even with magic. However, those who plead before you today will be more impressed with you, which should help."
He hoped so, and sat down. His mouth went dry as two men walked in. One was almost Randor's age, with graying dark hair, watery blue eyes, and a scraggly beard. His voice had a whine in it as he introduced himself as Lord Honnold of Drizmere, an estate to the east and south of Lochil. Tam hated him on sight, and then rebuked himself. Justice was too important to be swayed by personal preferences. He was surprised the case hadn't gone to Bogatay, a town closer to the man's holding.
Jarrett, the other man was younger and claimed to be Honnold's cousin. He had a bristly black beard and brilliant blue eyes, while his voice was deep and clear. They were obviously the men he'd heard earlier this morning.
The Guardian summarized the case. "We have a dispute over a child, a woman, and some land. The woman is named Marysalian, and she wed Lord Honnold six or seven years ago. Her family agreed to allow some of their land to go with her. No children were born for about two years. Then young Jarrett visited his cousin for a few months and then departed. There's some argument about what happened during that time, but less than a year later she had a son. Two years after that, she disappeared from the household with the boy, and neither one has been seen since. The rest of her family is also gone. Jarrett is here to claim the woman, the child, and the land given as part of her marriage contract for his own. Lord Honnold disputes that claim, and wants us to help him find his wife and son so he can welcome them back home. You may ask questions if you wish, or offer a judgment on what I've told you so far."
Tameron felt dizzy, mostly from what he could guess hadn't been said. "I would like to hear your statements for myself," he said. He already knew from Council meetings how somebody spoke was nearly as important as what they said. Commander Stine had also taught him how to watch an enemy's every movement.
Honnold gave his story first. He seemed more upset at losing the boy than his wife. The older man also accused Jarrett of spiriting both of them away.
"You drove her away!" Jarrett cried.
Lord Honnold gritted his teeth. "I have the right to speak without
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