When they exited Bertha's Infirmary, bandages of a significantly whiter shade neatly arrayed about Kendath's lower torso so that his armor nearly hid them entirely, Merrin found herself so preoccupied that she blinked upon finding several neat packets of herbs somehow in her hands. Bertha herself was extolling their virtues and admonishing Merrin to make sure Kendath did this, and that, and don't you take those off until you're sure.

"But dear, didn't you want that looked at?"

Her voice, motherly inquiring tone and all, jolted Merrin out of a daze. It took her a moment to realize the short round woman meant her wrist. "No, thank you," she replied with a grin and a shrug, entirely unaware that she was doing precisely the same thing she'd berated Kendath for.

Somehow Merrin managed to count out the correct amount of silver, tuck the herbs in her belt pouch with a wry reflection that she might as well toss them in a river for all the use they'd be on stubborn Kendath, and depart with a wave - all the while off somewhere else, thinking hard.

She couldn't quite believe what she'd said. Told him he cared. What did that come to? Next thing she knew she'd be telling him she loved him. But it wasn't that that made her distant, almost tingling. It was what he'd replied with - what he hadn't said. Merrin could have stared forever, blue eyes meeting dark, into his face no matter what he told her. Could he have done the same?

Strangely, momentarily, for one fleeting instant, she'd thought he could.

With some alarm Merrin hauled herself out of that dangerous thought pattern just in time to snatch her fingers away from the teeth of a mare with a distinct gleam in her large brown eyes. "Stupid animal," she muttered, and Kendath's eyes looking into hers were forgotten - for the moment.

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Amarinth was not particularly a paragon among cities. It had none of Vryngard's pristine beauty, a bit of Baste's majesty, and some of Port Dragonhelm's bustling economy. The last aspect could be attributed entirely to its rather convenient location. It stood wedged in the sole pass through Cargec's Chain, a road of jagged rock called Garnet Pass - aptly named for the mining industry it spawned. Merchant caravans passing through and an underground network of contraband also contributed greatly to its profit.

The Lord of Amarinth, Prince Feldwar, would no doubt protest to the latter.

A pale noon sun glinted off the snowcrested mountain peaks and shafted through the pine forest canopy above them. Kendath and company dropped in line behind the train of merchants waiting to enter the south gates. Their horses, winded from a twoday of relentless straining through craggy slopes, pawed the fresh layer of snow beneath their hooves. They snorted, and their breaths clouded a milky white before their muzzles.

Kendath worked his sore limbs, stretching out the kinks in his back. He knew all about the primitivity of the beasts, but no one had ever warned him about the jolting gait, the easy distractions, the interesting process called "rubbing down"... A few days in the saddle, and the irritable creature still didn't like him, even after the carrots and sugar cubes. His inexperience with horsemanship hardly helped. How was he to know that horses had soft mouths?

The line, currently moving an inch every ten minutes, didn't improve his mood either. If this was noon, he shuddered at how mornings must fare.

Three hours later, they stood at the south gate of Amarinth. The pair of guards fixed the travelers a look that spoke volumes of just how much they were enjoying themselves. "Name," the first one yawned.

"Kendath, Merrin, G - "

"Purpose."

"Not your busi - "

"You may pass."

Smirking inwardly, Kendath nudged his mount's flanks. He was nearly past the second portcullis when the guard called out, "Wait!" To which he ground his teeth and wheeled his horse back around. The guard looked uncertain for a fleeting moment before blurting, "What did you say your names were?"

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"Kendath, Merrin, Garthag, Evlyn," Merrin repeated, wheeling her mare halfway around with a bemused look. She was rather proud of that maneuver, but the guards didn't notice in the least, and were still regarding them with nonplussed looks. One pair looked as though recognition was beginning to dawn, and Merrin assisted it along, albeit that she would have preferred to omit the title. "Kendath and Merrin Dragonriders? Oh" - she glanced ahead - "and Evlyn Dragon -"

In an instant the guards were all helpfulness. They bobbed a salute nearly in perfect unison - it would have been impressive had it not been unplanned - and one even came to hold the head of Merrin's horse when in an attempt to wheel about a second time it decided it didn't want to. With a perplexed look she dismounted and came to hold the reins with an eloquent glance - it said what? with perfect clearness - at Kendath. "Ah - I think you must have mistaken us for someone else."

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"I think not, Lady Merrin," the first guard said brightly. Further inspection revealed him to be young and freckled, with tousled blond hair. He bowed with a gallant flourish. He stared at his feet for all of thirty seconds before his companion elbowed him emphatically in the ribs.

The companion mentioned was an older man in both maturity and appearance. He cleared his throat for both of them and nodded stiffly at the visitors. "Many apologies," he rasped, still looking duly embarassed. "His Lordship has commanded us to find you an escort. He wishes to see you in his manor immediately, as his highest guests of honor."

To say the least, Kendath looked a little unhappy at this turn of events. "What's the occassion?"

The older guard evinced a curt bow of his own. "He heard about your courage at the siege of Vryngard and commends you for it. Now if you'll come this way..." To a disheveled runner he hissed, "Alert Prince Feldwar. Quickly."

They didn't have to wait long for the escort. Before they quite assimilated the twist, they were being paraded off to the inner city. Not that they had a choice.

-----

The runner, a teenaged boy of pale complexion, bowed before the high dais. "They... they are here, my lord."

Prince Feldwar suppressed a groan. His eyes darted to the double oak doors at the end of the columned audience hall. They flickered next to the shadows lengthening within the chamber. He remembered himself before he could begin toying with the hem of his buttoned doublet. He hastily blanked his face - a young face that might have once charmed the lovely maidens of Amarinth, but now possessed a faint wasted appearance.

"My lord?"

The Prince cleared his throat. "Yes. Yes, I am ready to receive them."

The runner bowed his way out. The great double doors shut behind him with an echoing bang. Feldwar noticeably flinched. His eyes darted once more around the empty chamber.

Behind him, one of the shadows stirred. "So they are here at last." The voice was sibilant as silk, subtle as a spider's web. A tall figure, hooded and robed in black, detached himself from a dark alcove behind the throne.

"I have... I have obeyed your orders. What... what will you do with them?"

The Lich smiled from the depths of his hood - an expression that none saw. "So they came. They make for the Seeress. The Seeress." The slightest hint of disdain touched his deadpan tones. "They grow too bold. The ingenuous Chosen and her faithful bodyguard. Ah, yes. I know one of them. His name is Garthag, is it not?" He paused, thinking, though he hardly expected Feldwar to answer. "He oversteps his bounds. He forgets how easily I crushed him, annihilated his powers! Perhaps I shall pay him a visit... to remind him...."

Prince Feldwar emitted an almost pathetic whimper.

"Come, come, little prince. I will do nothing. You will treat them with the utmost honor, until they begin to suspect of course. Make certain they do not leave the city."

Trembling from the deathly chill that pervaded the audience hall, Feldwar flapped his jaw. "Y - yes, m - my lord."

But the Lich was already gone.

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Merrin considered mounting her horse again for a moment and then dismissed the idea. The press of people was such that she wasn't sure she could control the animal. The soldiers themselves were crowding very close - with an uneasy scan of the milling people around them Merrin wondered if this was normal. Lady Merrin? The words did not belong together - Merrin was a lady no more than the ragged girl-child selling sweet buns on the corner of one of the jammed streets. Even her very name screamed 'peasant'.

"I'm not a lady," she muttered to Kendath, moving closer to him with a glance behind her. "Have you ever heard of a Prince Feldwar?"

She had been no more courageous than anyone else at Vryngard, of that Merrin was sure. "I didn't think anyone knew me outside Vryngard," she added uncertainly. Or did they? Perhaps it was only hospitality -? That would have to be it. Merrin couldn't think why else.

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"I don't like this," was Kendath's only response. His eyes scanned the crowd, which parted under the intimidating escort and their standard bearer, currently raising the banner of Amarinth's throne. The throngs ranged anywhere from curious to impatient. Recognition or respect, he saw none. "Prince Feldwar," he muttered back. "His seal was on the bounty hunt. Why would his august lordship waste his time with us?" He scowled and yanked hard on the reins of his horse, which was acting to the heat of the pressing crowds.

We should never have come here.

Indeed, they'd intended to pass through, spend a night, perhaps find a more ideal job - he'd be cursed if he had to live off Garthag forever. But this... this was more than they'd bargained for. It was almost as if Lord Feldwar had been anticipating their arrival.

The crenellated walls of the inner city loomed before them. The escort paraded through the wealthier district, all the while headed for an edifice crowning a landscaped hill. Feldwar's manor looked more suited for luxury than practical defense. A single column of dragonfire could probably raze it to the ground. Stable hands scurried in perfectly on time to take their horses. Flanked on both sides by soldiers in full battle regalia, they were led into a tapestried foyer, through an elegantly candlelit corridor, and at last into a spacious antechamber.

"His Lordship, Prince Feldwar of Amarinth, will see you momentarily. Meanwhile, feel free to help yourself to drink and refreshment." The servant bowed his way out of the room.

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Merrin heaved an uneasy breath, standing in the middle of the lavishly furnished chamber with something approaching discomfort on her face. It made her keenly aware of the tendrils of bronze-tinted hair escaping the makeshift braid she'd wound it into, of the worn condition of her tunic and breeches, of her wrist still bandaged...and above all the fact that as a peasant she'd never even set eyes on the kind of alien extravagance here.

No more at ease sitting than standing, she sat down rather gingerly and set about trying to tuck the escaping hair back into some semblance of a braid. It adamantly refused to do anything but escape. Merrin stared at herself for a moment in helpless dismay and eventually gave up. Nothing she could do about her clothes, though at least the saber at her belt was neat in its sheath and much cleaner than the rest of her. Standing up again - the chair was decidedly overstuffed, Merrin's discomfort aside - she made one last-ditch attempt to do something about her half-unraveled braid.

This one had as much effect as the others had - none - and it was a resigned Merrin that faced the large oaken doors when they opened. "Prince Feldwar, my lady Merrin Dragonrider."

My lady! Merrin suppressed a grimace. And they hadn't even mentioned Kendath, though the absence of recognition for Garthag and Evlyn she could live with. Uncomfortably self-conscious, she tossed her braid over her shoulder and went in a little ahead of Kendath, as the servant seemed to be indicating she should do. Servants. Another thing Merrin couldn't get used to.

_________________

The columned elegance of the audience hall stretched before them. On either side of the walkway, ostentatiously dressed nobles judged their scruffy appearance with thinly veiled expressions of bemusement, though many looked openly contemptuous.

"...disgraceful..."

"...commoners in the court of Amarinth..."

Kendath fell in line beside Garthag, a little ways behind Merrin. Face taut, jaw tightely clenched, he stared straight ahead at the high dais. Two identical shafts of sunlight filtering through a pair of arched windows set the throne's gems in a dazzling display of color. His rancor multiplied threefold when he clapped eyes on Prince Feldwar himself. The young man's silk robes alone could feed a village for a year, and his ruby diadem ten years.

Unbidden, Kendath's thoughts turned to his father. Amrinev had been a high priest of prestigious standing in a city not unlike this one. Memories of him in gray woolen robes, distributing coins to the poor... Catching himself, Kendath banished those thoughts. Since when had he cared?

They came to a stop before the dais. He knew enough of court protocol to understand that commoners were expected to drop to their knees. With a twist of irony he wondered if His Lordship's honored guests still qualified as commoners. The auspicious Lady Merrin should address the Prince first. He'd gleaned enough of the nobles' mutters to know that Sir Kendath and Sir Garthag, Her Ladyship's noble attendants, should not speak at all.

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Merrin knew about as much regarding court etiquette as she did horses - effectively nothing. The nonplussed stares that accosted her were certainly of no assistance, and neither was the Prince himself. It took effort not to stare at the lavishly dressed nobles and unimaginably rich furnishings, let alone the Prince himself.

Upon stopping Merrin realized abruptly that she hadn't the slightest idea how to proceed. Catching Kendath kneeling out the corner of her eye she bowed and straightened, not being quite dressed to attempt a curtsy and not knowing exactly how in any case. Frantically she groped for some remnant of the lessons she'd had as a page, trying to recall what the difference was between how you addressed a king or prince as opposed to a lord or duke - but there had already been an uncomfortable few seconds of silence and Merrin eventually gave herself up for lost.

"Ah - your Highness," she said, straightening to look up at where he sat on the dais. Stars, that throne must have cost an entire nation. Lady Merrin. If you were Lady Merrin what would you do? "This is...an unexpected honor, your Highness - may I inquire as to the occasion?"

She fervently hoped that wasn't some egregious breach of etiquette and steadfastly avoided looking at the nobles on each wall - could they tell how utterly out of place she was, Merrin wondered before stomping on that train of thought entirely.

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Acute of his honored guest's discomfort, Prince Feldwar flashed a reassuring smile that could, despite the anxiety etched on his face, melt any young woman on the spot. "Greetings, my lady Merrin Dragonrider. I am proud to receive you as my honored guest. I have heard extraordinary tales of your heroics at the siege of Vryngard - heroics I shall not grow lax to recognize! I ask humbly that you grace us with your presence at a royal banquet tonight, presented in your honor."

Commoners weren't supposed to raise their eyes, but Kendath surreptitiously glanced up nonetheless. Either Feldwar had a very eloquent speechmaker, or the man simply had nothing to do with his spare time.

Evidently Prince Feldwar had keener observation skills than many political rivals gave him credit for - one reason he still sat the throne. Again noting Merrin's hesitation, he continued soothingly, with impeccable persuasion, "Lady Merrin, the good citizens of Amarinth have waited long for a hero to grace these halls. Dark times are upon us. They need a reason to celebrate, a paragon of excellence they can look to. Legendary dragonriders once flew above the pure walls of Amarinth, but no more. The bards would sing your glory for ages to come."

Kendath made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough. Feldwar didn't deign to glance at him, but a few others did - namely, more disdainful nobles than he could count on two hands. "Sorry," he atoned with questionable sincerity.

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Despite her resolution to attempt at least a pretension at poise, Merrin took an involuntary step back in surprise. Granted, the prince hadn't failed entirely to have the same effect on her he no doubt had on myriad other women, but it was the very thought of what he was proposing that made her blush. "I - I thank you," she stammered, at a loss, and had every intention of refusing before a glance to the side showed her nobles wearing sardonic smiles and leaning to whisper to their peers. Something vaguely remembered from classes as a page told her that refusing would be a course of action not recommended.

A banquet for a dragonrider without a dragon, a nineteen-year-old barely able to manage her own horse let alone juggle political intricacies. Even the uneducated Merrin thought it odd. "I cannot refuse," she added, bowing again for good measure. "Your generosity is - ah - overwhelming, your Highness."

Seeing the end in sight Merrin decided one thing had to be set straight before they went any further. "But - your Highness - you need not address me as Lady, I am not one, I assure you." Even as the prospect of said banquet made her cringe, the thought of having that title applied to her all through it was even more alarming.

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Kendath nearly choked on his tongue. He shot Merrin a look that ranged in the space of five seconds from venomous to beseeching. The urge to run to a stone wall and start banging his head was overpowering.

If anything, Prince Feldwar exhibited a most contrasting reaction. Pleased, he flashed that infuriating - at least to Kendath - smile again and magnanimously extended his hand. "Of course, Merrin." A few nobles gasped here - for His Lordship to address someone in such familiarity in the court was scandalous. Ignoring them, Feldwar continued, "I apologize. I should not have detained you so long. Go, take rest from your wearying journey. Attendants will show you your rooms. You will be called to the banquet at nightfall."

The polite dismissal was accompanied by the oak doors swinging open again. Kendath bowed stiffly beside his companions, then once more fell into line behind Merrin. He glared daggers at the back of her head the entire way out. Upon reaching the antechamber he ignored the hovering attendant, instead rounding on Merrin with a growl, "What was that?"

_________________

Merrin exhaled shakily, looking simultaneously relieved and apprehensive. "I don't know," she replied with audible perplexity, falling into step behind a white-clad servant and casting a last glance over her shoulder. "I - I can't think why he would throw a banquet at all, Kendath, but what was I to say?"

This last was added defensively, as Merrin observed that he hardly looked pleased about this turn of events. Truth be told, she was little happier. 'Shy' could have been used to describe her in years past, and though the timid fifteen-year-old who had first donned the garb of a page was altered not a little, Merrin shrank from thinking of what the evening might hold. Guest of honor, he had said? Stars, her cheeks burned crimson at the very thought of it! She had nothing to say to these nobles, nothing in common with their lives of luxury and subtle court politics.

They were moving along stone corridors now, lit at intervals with a torch in a wrought-iron sconce or occasionally a curtained window. "I'm not a noble," Merrin said finally in the ensuing silence, spreading her hands in a gesture of helpless bewilderment. "I...I've never seen a court, not one like that."

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"Me neither"

Garthag commented dryly, but there was a certain amount of concern in his voice as to him there was something very wrong in this place, especially with that swaggering prince Feldwar.

"Fedlwar seemed... over friendly... and this nightly banquet is what I`d rather say suspicious, call me paranoid, but I suggest we get the hell out of here as fast as we can. I might just wonder how he came to know of you because I for one wouldn`t have taken you as heroes. Not to mention Feldwar obviously has an interest in Merrin and fact remains Merrin is the chosen of the gods...."

Garthag said and let his words take a form and end of their own in the heads of his `friends`.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"Garthag's right" said Evlyn, drinking rancid water from her pouch. She'd pointedly ignored the wine they'd been served, most likely drugged she'd decided. Throughout the interview Evlyn had stood disdaininfully at the back watching everyone and takeing in evrything. "The Prince is afaid of something, something to do with all of you. His people treated you neither as great hero's or some mad idia of the Princes which should be indulged. Everything he said was a lie, we should leave." Her grey eyes convayed only worry and distrust of thier situation.

--------------

Down in the stabels, thier horses were being led into stalls and taken care of. A lad looked in horror at the back of a mare that had kicked everyone in sight. It was scarred and cut as if a sword had been used to whip it whilst rideing. If any of the party had been there, it might have comforted them to know that Evlyn was not as good a manager of horses as she had seemed.

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Made by Lembas

For once in his life, Kendath found himself agreeing with Garthag, a disturbing notion mitigated only a little by the fact that Evlyn had stopped groveling. "Try it," he offered at the mage, then shifting his look towards the guards stationed in the near foreground. And in the near background. And on either side of them. 'Getting the hell out of here as fast as they could' wouldn't get them particularly far.

Paranoid git, this Prince Feldwar. He wondered if... Ah, there they are. The servant had halted beside four adjacent doors. Pretty. Ornate. Doorknobs worth more than what Kendath made in a month. The decor was, alas, diminished slightly by the pair of guards flanking each door.

"You will bathe and dress suitably for His Lordship's auspicious court," the servant requested in a voice that suspiciously didn't sound like a request. Whether by design or innocuous coincidence, his eyes settled on their scruffy attire. He began wrinkling his nose, before graciously catching himself and continuing, "His Lordship expects you in the dining hall in three hours." Flicking one more glance at their clothes, he sniffed in high dudgeon and stalked back down the corridor.

Watching the servant's retreating back, Kendath was reminded interestingly of healers in general.

He would have liked to discuss something here - namely, an escape plan - but eight glares from as many guards discouraged that notion. He exchanged one more look with his companions, shrugged, and opened the nearest door.

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