I thank you for your hospitality and bid you farewell.”
He stepped forward, then stopped. Amberglas had not moved out of the doorway. “That’s quite unnecessary, though of course very courteous; still, it would be far more helpful if you would tell me whom to speak to in Sevairn.”
“Speak to?”
“Certainly. How can I deliver a message for you if I don’t speak to someone? Unless you write it down, which is perfectly possible; at least it would be if I had anything for you to write on. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything just at the moment, which is very inconvenient, unless of course you don’t wish to write your message, in which case it doesn’t matter.”
With an effort, Jermain fought down a sudden, wild hope and forced himself to think clearly. A moment later, he shook his head. “Lady, I know King Marreth well, and I suspect that the mere mention of my name at court is now cause for suspicion of treason. Delivering a message for me . . . I cannot ask you to take such a risk.”
“You didn’t ask me,” Amberglas said. “I daresay you’ve forgotten, or else you didn’t notice, though I don’t see how you managed to be a King’s Adviser for six years if your memory is as bad as that.”
“This has nothing to do with my memory!” Jermain said. “Don’t you realize how dangerous it could be?”
“Do you think so?” said Amberglas, looking faintly interested. “But then, a great many things can be dangerous, especially if one is careless, and some of them are quite ordinary. Walking down wet stairs, for instance, or chopping carrots, or juggling someone else’s Dangil china cups. So it won’t necessarily be particularly exciting.”
“Exciting!” Jermain took two deliberately slow breaths. “No. I can’t. I won’t. Marreth’s been executing spies; one mistake and he’d have your head. Not to mention exiling whomever he caught you talking to.”
Amberglas blinked at him. “Dear me. Perhaps you had better write it down after all.”
“I am not,” Jermain said carefully, “going to give you a message.”
“Well, I suppose I will have to manage without one, then. Still, it’s a pity; mistakes can be so very awkward.”
For a moment, Jermain stood staring, utterly taken aback. Amberglas could not possibly mean to deliver a nonexistent message from Jermain to some unknown person in Leshiya. He looked at her again and changed his mind; that was exactly what she meant to do, and the only way he could prevent her was to give her a real message. Either way, she would be taking a grave risk. Unless . . . There was one person in Leshiya who would not be penalized for receiving a message from Jermain; Marreth could hardly exile his own son.
“I’ll give you a message, then,” Jermain said in a voice he barely recognized as his own. “Tell Prince Eltiron that all his dissembling will not keep the Hoven-Thalar from overrunning Sevairn. And tell him . . . tell him I will not forget what he and Terrel did.”
“I will tell him.” Amberglas remained where she was, regarding Jermain with an air of great preoccupation. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided where you’re going next?”
“To Gramwood, and then to Mournwal,” Jermain said. “They have little hope of withstanding such a horde as the Hoven-Thalar can raise, but I must at least warn them.”
Amberglas nodded, looking, if possible, even more preoccupied than before. “Yes, I see, though I can’t think what good it will do you there; but then, things are often useful in the most peculiar places. I knew a man in Tar-Alem who used his mother’s sword for hoeing cabbages, though Tar-Alem isn’t really much more peculiar than other places, so perhaps it isn’t the same at all. Of course, it wasn’t intended to be particularly useful, but one never knows, and I do hope you’ll take it anyway.”
“What? What are you—” Jermain caught himself just before the words “babbling about” slipped out. Amberglas
He stepped forward, then stopped. Amberglas had not moved out of the doorway. “That’s quite unnecessary, though of course very courteous; still, it would be far more helpful if you would tell me whom to speak to in Sevairn.”
“Speak to?”
“Certainly. How can I deliver a message for you if I don’t speak to someone? Unless you write it down, which is perfectly possible; at least it would be if I had anything for you to write on. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything just at the moment, which is very inconvenient, unless of course you don’t wish to write your message, in which case it doesn’t matter.”
With an effort, Jermain fought down a sudden, wild hope and forced himself to think clearly. A moment later, he shook his head. “Lady, I know King Marreth well, and I suspect that the mere mention of my name at court is now cause for suspicion of treason. Delivering a message for me . . . I cannot ask you to take such a risk.”
“You didn’t ask me,” Amberglas said. “I daresay you’ve forgotten, or else you didn’t notice, though I don’t see how you managed to be a King’s Adviser for six years if your memory is as bad as that.”
“This has nothing to do with my memory!” Jermain said. “Don’t you realize how dangerous it could be?”
“Do you think so?” said Amberglas, looking faintly interested. “But then, a great many things can be dangerous, especially if one is careless, and some of them are quite ordinary. Walking down wet stairs, for instance, or chopping carrots, or juggling someone else’s Dangil china cups. So it won’t necessarily be particularly exciting.”
“Exciting!” Jermain took two deliberately slow breaths. “No. I can’t. I won’t. Marreth’s been executing spies; one mistake and he’d have your head. Not to mention exiling whomever he caught you talking to.”
Amberglas blinked at him. “Dear me. Perhaps you had better write it down after all.”
“I am not,” Jermain said carefully, “going to give you a message.”
“Well, I suppose I will have to manage without one, then. Still, it’s a pity; mistakes can be so very awkward.”
For a moment, Jermain stood staring, utterly taken aback. Amberglas could not possibly mean to deliver a nonexistent message from Jermain to some unknown person in Leshiya. He looked at her again and changed his mind; that was exactly what she meant to do, and the only way he could prevent her was to give her a real message. Either way, she would be taking a grave risk. Unless . . . There was one person in Leshiya who would not be penalized for receiving a message from Jermain; Marreth could hardly exile his own son.
“I’ll give you a message, then,” Jermain said in a voice he barely recognized as his own. “Tell Prince Eltiron that all his dissembling will not keep the Hoven-Thalar from overrunning Sevairn. And tell him . . . tell him I will not forget what he and Terrel did.”
“I will tell him.” Amberglas remained where she was, regarding Jermain with an air of great preoccupation. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided where you’re going next?”
“To Gramwood, and then to Mournwal,” Jermain said. “They have little hope of withstanding such a horde as the Hoven-Thalar can raise, but I must at least warn them.”
Amberglas nodded, looking, if possible, even more preoccupied than before. “Yes, I see, though I can’t think what good it will do you there; but then, things are often useful in the most peculiar places. I knew a man in Tar-Alem who used his mother’s sword for hoeing cabbages, though Tar-Alem isn’t really much more peculiar than other places, so perhaps it isn’t the same at all. Of course, it wasn’t intended to be particularly useful, but one never knows, and I do hope you’ll take it anyway.”
“What? What are you—” Jermain caught himself just before the words “babbling about” slipped out. Amberglas
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