Of course, the true test was going to be getting himself into Roial and Sarene's secret meetings. If he was ever going to do any good for Arelon, he needed to be admitted into that special group. They were the ones who were working to determine the fate of the country. Galladon was skeptical about Raoden's chances—of course, Galladon was skeptical about everything. Raoden smiled to himself: he was the one who had actually started the meetings. It seemed ironic that he should now be forced to work to regain admittance.
Kaloo's face once again masking his own, Raoden pulled on his green gloves—articles that held the illusion that made his arms seem non-Elantrian— then spun and twirled for Galladon. "And the magnificent Kaloo returns."
"Please, sule, not in private. I come close enough to strangling you in public." Raoden chuckled. "Ah, what a life. Loved by all women, envied by every man."
Galladon snorted."Loved by all of the women but one, you mean."
"Well, she did invite me to spar with her any time I wanted." Raoden said. smiling as he walked over to pull open the drapes.
"Even if it was just to get another chance to impale you." Galladon said. "You should be glad she hit you on the face. where the illusion covered the wound. If she'd stabbed through your clothing, it would have been very difficult to explain why your cut didn't bleed. Kolo?"
Raoden slid open the balcony door, walking out to look over Roial's gardens. He sighed as Galladon joined him. "Tell me this. Why is it that every time I meet her. Sarene is determined to hate me?"
"Must be love," Galladon said.
Raoden laughed wryly. "Well, at least this time it's Kaloo she hates, rather than the real me. I suppose I can forgive her for that—I've almost gotten to the point where I hate him too."
A knock came at the door, drawing their attention. Galladon looked at him and he nodded. Their costumes and faces were complete. Galladon, playing the part of a servant, walked over and unlocked the door. Roial stood outside.
"My lord," Raoden said. approaching with outreached arms and a broad smile. "I trust your day has been as fine as my own!"
"It has. Citizen Kaloo," Roial said. "May I come in?"
"Certainly, certainly," Raoden said. "It is, after all, your house. We are so unspeakably indebted to your kindness that I know I shall never manage to repay you."
"Nonsense, citizen," Roial said. "Though, speaking of payments, you will be pleased to know that I made a good trade on those lamp mounts you gave me. I deposited your credit in an account at my bank—it should be enough to see that you live comfortably for several years at least."
"Excellent!" Raoden proclaimed. "We shall immediately seek another place to reside.
"No, no." the old duke said, holding up his hands. "Stay here as long as you wish. I get so few visitors in my old age that even this small house often seems too large."
"Then we shall stay as long as you suffer us!" Raoden declared with characteristically Duladen lack of decorum. It was said that the moment you invited a Dula to stay, you would never get rid of him—or his family.
"Tell me, citizen," Roial said, strolling to the balcony. "Where did you find a dozen lamp mounts made of solid gold?"
"Family heirlooms," Raoden said. "I pried them off our mansion walls even as the people burned it down."
"It must have been horrible," Roial said, leaning against the balcony rail.
"Worse than horrible," Raoden said with somberness. Then he smiled. "But those times are over now, my lord. I have a new country and new friends! You shall become my family now."
Roial nodded absently, then shot wary eyes back at Galladon.
"I see something occupies your mind, Lord Roial," Raoden said. "Fear not to speak it—good Dendo has been with me since I was born; he is worthy of any man's trust."
Roial nodded, turning back to look out over his estate. "I do not mention the harsh times in your homeland indiscriminately, citizen. You said they are over now, but I fear for us the terror is just beginning."
"Ah, you speak of the problems with the throne," Raoden said with a click of his tongue.
"Yes, citizen," Roial said. "Telrii is not a strong leader. I fear Arelon will soon fall to Duladel's fate. We have Fjordell wolves nipping at us, smelling blood, but our nobility pretends to see nothing more than favored hounds."
"Oh troubled times," Raoden said, "Where can I go to find simple peace?" "Sometimes we must make our own peace, citizen."
"What do you mean?" Raoden asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
"Citizen, I hope I do not injure you when I point out that the others see you as rather frivolous."
Raoden laughed. "I hope they see me that way, my lord. I should hate to think I've been playing the fool for nothing."
Roial smiled. "I sense a wit in you that is not completely masked by your foppishness, citizen. Tell me, how did you manage to escape from Duladen?"
"I am afraid that is one secret which must remain untold, my lord," Raoden said. "There are those who would suffer dearly if their part in my escape became known."
Roial nodded. "I understand. The important part is that you survived when your countrymen did not. Do you know how many refugees came up through the border when the Republic fell?"
"I am afraid not, my lord," Raoden replied. "I was a little busy at the time."
"None," Roial said. "Not a single one that I know of—yourself excluded. I hear that the republicans were too shocked to even think of escaping."
"My people are slow to act, my lord," Raoden said with upraised hands. "In this case, our lax manner proved our downfall. The revolution rolled over us while we were still discussing what to have for dinner."
"But you escaped."
"I escaped," Raoden agreed.
"You have already been through what we might have to suffer, and that makes your advice valuable—no matter what the others may think."
"There is a way to escape Duladel's fate, my lord," Raoden said cautiously."Though it could be dangerous. It would involve a ... change in leadership."
Roial's eyes narrowed knowingly, and he nodded. Something passed between them—an understanding of the duke's offer and Raoden's willingness. "You speak of dangerous things," Roial warned.
"I have been though a lot, my lord. I would not be averse to a little more danger if it provided me a means of living the rest of my life in peace."
"I cannot guarantee that will happen," Roial said.
"And I cannot guarantee that this balcony won't suddenly collapse, sending us to our doom. All we can do is count on luck. and our wits, to protect us." Roial nodded. "You know the house of the merchant Kiin?"
"Yes."
"Meet me there tonight at sunset."
Raoden nodded, and the duke excused himself. As the door shut, Raoden winked at Galladon. "And you thought I couldn't do it."
"I'll never doubt you again," Galladon said dryly.
"The secret was Roial, my friend," Raoden said, pulling the balcony door shut as he walked back into the room. "He sees through most façades—but, unlike Sarene, his primary question is not 'Why is this man trying to fool me?' but 'How can I make use of what I know?' I gave him hints, and he responded."
Galladon nodded. "Well, you're in. Now what will you do?"
"Find a way to put Roial on the throne instead of Telrii," Raoden said, picking up a cloth and a jar of brown makeup. He smeared some of the makeup on the cloth, then tucked the cloth in his pocket.
Galladon raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?" he asked, nodding to the cloth.
"Something I hope I won't have to use."
CHAPTER 53
"WHAT is he doing here?" Sarene demanded. standing at the doorway to Kiin's kitchen. The idiot Kaloo sat inside, dressed in a montage of garish reds and oranges. He spoke animatedly with Kiin and Roial, and apparently hadn't noticed her arrival.
Lukel closed the door behind her, then glanced toward the Dula with apparent distaste. Her cousin was known as one of the wittiest, most colorful men in Kae. Kaloo's reputation, however, had quickly eclipsed even Lukel's, leaving the young merchant a bitter second.
"Roial invited him for some reason," Lukel muttered.
"Has Roial gone mad?" Sarene asked, perhaps more loudly than she should have. "What if that cursed Dula is a spy?"
"A spy for whom?" Kaloo asked merrily. "I don't think your pompous king has the political acumen to hire spies—and let me assure you, no matter how much I exasperate you, Princess, I bother Fjordells even more. That gyorn would rather stab himself in the chest than pay me for information."
Sarene flushed with embarrassment, an action that only sent Kaloo into another peal of laughter.
"I think, Sarene, you will find Citizen Kaloo's opinions helpful," Roial said. "This man sees things differently from Arelenes, and he also has a fresh opinion of events in Kae. I seem to remember that you yourself used a similar argument when you first joined us. Do not diseount Kaloo's value because he happens to be a little more eccentric than you find comfortable."
Sarene frowned, but allowed herself to be rebuked. The duke's observations held weight; it would be helpful to have a new perspective. For some reason Roial seemed to trust Kaloo. She could sense a mutual respect between them. Grudgingly, she admitted that perhaps the duke had seen something in Kaloo that she hadn't. The Dula had, after all, been staying with Roial for several days.
Ahan was late, as usual. Shuden and Eondel spoke quietly at one end of the table, their subdued conversation a stark contrast to Kaloo's vibrant narrative. Kiin had provided appetizers—crackers with some sort of creamy white glaze atop them.
Despite her insistences that he not prepare dinner, Kiin had obviously been unable to let this many people congregate without giving them something to eat. Sarene smiled: she doubted that other treasonous conspiracies enjoyed gourmet snacks.
A few moments later, Ahan waddled in. nor bothering to knock. He plopped himself down in his customary seat and proceeded to attack the crackers.
"We're all here, then," Sarene said, speaking sharply to interrupt Kaloo. All heads turned toward her as she stood. "I trust you all have given our predicament much thought. Does anyone want to start?"
"I will," Ahan said. "Maybe Telrii can be persuaded nor to convert to ShuDereth."
Sarene sighed. "I thought we discussed this, Ahan. Telrii isn't debating whether or not to convert; he's waiting to see how much money he can get out of Wyrn."
"If only we had more troops," Roial said with a shake of his head. "With a proper army. we could intimidate Telrii. Sarene, what chance is there of getting aid from Teod?"
"Not much." Sarene said, sitting. "Remember, my father swore himself to Shu-Dereth. Besides, Teod has a wonderful navy, but few ground troops. Our country has a small population—we survive by sinking our enemies before they land."