Tris blinked, trying to focus. His head was pounding so badly that it was becoming difficult to see. "Would you have me help you make the passage?" he asked Hanre's ghost.
The silversmith shook his head. "Not yet, my lord Summoner. I would stay and see justice be done. Then, perhaps, I can truly rest. Thank you, m'lord. I'm in your debt." The spirit made a deep bow, and
departed. Tris signaled to the bailiff to close the doors. He hoped that he could make it up to his rooms before the headache grew any worse.
A HOT BATH and a good supper eased both Tris's headache and the stiff muscles he had from sword practice. He'd wrenched his neck climbing, and he had still not completely recovered from his injuries at the citadel. The warm fire sent him to sleep. He dozed in a chair in his rooms until a sharp knock at the door roused him. A page stood in the hallway.
"Begging your pardon, Lord Wizard," the boy said nervously, "but the king wishes you to meet with him in his sitting room."
"I'm hardly dressed for an audience," he said wearily. "Please give me a few minutes to get ready." Moving as quickly as he could, Tris tried to ignore his headache as he dressed to meet with King Staden. The page waited until Tris emerged. They walked the short distance to the king's doors, and the guards stood to the side to allow Tris to enter.
Staden took in Tris's condition. "How long do you think you can go on like this, before you have nothing left?" Tris gave a courteous bow that made his head pound.
"Just long enough, I guess," Tris replied. With Staden was another man, and Tris frowned, struggling to place the unexpectedly familiar face. The man had white hair and was dressed well without ostentation. His bearing spoke of nobility. Tris finally connected the face with a memory, and he recognized Abelard, Bricen's ambassador to Principality.
Tris stepped forward to shake Abelard's hand, but the older man bowed low. "Greetings, my prince," the ambassador said, accepting Tris's hand as Tris bid him rise. "We thank the Goddess for your safe passage to Principality."
Staden motioned for them sit near the fire. A servant brought them each a mug of warm mulled wine.
"Abelard has been here in Principality City, under my protection, since the coup," said Staden. "With your comings and goings to the Sisterhood, I haven't had the chance to present him before this. I imagine you two have much to discuss," he said, rising. Staden bustled out of the room before either man could reply.
