“Welcome to Chandleer Oasis,” Sunilik said in a husky but controlled tone. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Would you care for a drink? I have a keg of Atabyrion uskebeaghe I bought from a Genevese merchant for special occasions.”
A smile twisted the corners of Gahalatine’s mouth. “You choose an interesting language to speak, Lord Sunilik. I had expected to address you in Hunjab.”
“We can if you prefer, of course,” Sunilik said offhandedly. “I speak it equally well. Have you come to enjoy the bathing pools, then?”
Trynne was impressed by the king’s coolheaded response, which earned him another smile from Gahalatine. “I came seeking a glimpse of your daughter, Sureya. I hear she is quite beautiful. I also understand that you are Fountain-blessed. Did any of your three daughters inherit the gift?”
As he asked the question, Trynne sensed the subtle press of his will. He was testing Sunilik’s power, measuring him, prodding him. Trynne noticed that Sunilik’s fingers, still clasped behind his back, were digging into his own skin as if to repel the intrusive act.
“Alas, none of my three daughters have demonstrated aptitude as yet. My wife, Anupa, is not Fountain-blessed, and as you know, it does not always pass to the children.”
“Where is Sureya?” Gahalatine asked, forcing another flex of his will on Sunilik. But because Trynne was standing nearby, it could not affect him.
“Well, to come to that point directly,” Sunilik said, rocking on his heels a bit. “Since receiving your esteemed emissary”—he nodded to the Wizr standing at Gahalatine’s shoulder—“I made arrangements to send my daughter to the court of Kingfountain.”
Trynne was impressed by his bluff. He hadn’t lied—he’d simply chosen not to reveal that his daughter was still standing there in the room.
A strange look crossed Gahalatine’s face. There was anger there, certainly, but it was mixed with admiration. “You sent her to Kingfountain?” he repeated. He let out his breath in a chuff. “The one place I cannot follow her,” he added in a low voice. He looked shrewdly at Sunilik. “Is Sureya Fountain-blessed?” he asked in a commanding voice. The power behind the words sent a pulse through Trynne’s mind and she almost wanted to confess that she, herself, was Fountain-blessed. But the magic could not make her, nor could it affect Sunilik in her presence.
“As I said,” Sunilik responded simply, inclining his head, “she has not, as yet, shown the aptitude. We are a small kingdom, my lord, well beneath the dignity of your esteemed presence.”
Gahalatine’s expression grew impatient. “I had hoped she would be,” he said matter-of-factly. “I cannot always trust my advisors”—he gave a scolding look to his Wizr—“to be completely candid with me, and I often verify their reports with my own eyes. Well, if Sureya is visiting Kingfountain, I will have the honor of meeting her soon enough. I will give her your fatherly regards. She may not be what I came here to find, but you, sir, have more than impressed me. You’ve run your kingdom in a capable and compassionate manner. You have a reputation for integrity and honor. But I have greater use for your abilities in Chandigarl. I will leave a capable man to rule the oasis in your place. But your wife will be brought to you, and you will live together in luxury you cannot imagine.” He flashed Sunilik a cunning smile before turning to his Wizr. “Take him to the Forbidden Court.”
“As you command, my lord,” the Wizr said. He withdrew a cylindrical object, something like a capped scroll case, from his belt and then reached out and touched Sunilik’s arm. The two of them instantly vanished, as if blotted out of existence. They were not standing on the ley line at all.
There were gasps from the assembled witnesses. Worried voices began to titter in the semidarkened hall as Gahalatine stood there, brooding, gazing at the spot where the two men had stood. She felt his magic begin to seep out of him again as he turned and faced the large hall. She almost didn’t dare to breathe, wondering how she had escaped his notice thus far. Slowly, she reached back and squeezed Sureya’s hand.
“Please, do not fear for your lives,” Gahalatine said, holding up his hand. “I do not seek vengeance on this place. Go about your work. Obey your masters. When I come to a defeated kingdom, I normally find the people in squalor.” He turned as he spoke, his back now to Trynne and Sureya. If she were a poisoner, this would have been her opportunity to assassinate him. The temptation struck her suddenly, keenly, but she shoved it back.