‘Well, it’s one of the things that impresses them,’ Stragen amended.

‘Then why did Mirtai agree to marry Kring? Kring’s a good warrior, but he’s not much taller than I am, and I’m still growing.’

‘It must be something else about him that impressed her so much,’ Stragen shrugged.

‘What do you think it is?’

‘I haven’t got the faintest idea, Talen.’

‘He’s a poet,’ Sparhawk told them. ‘Maybe that’s it.’

‘That wouldn’t make that much difference to someone like Mirtai, would it? She did slice two men open and then burn them alive, remember? She doesn’t sound to me like the kind of girl who’d get all gushy about poetry.’

‘Don’t ask me, Talen,’ Stragen laughed. ‘I know a great deal about the world, but I wouldn’t even try to make a guess about why any woman chooses any given man.’

‘Good thinking,’ Ulath murmured.

The city had been alerted to their approach by Engessa’s messengers, and the royal party was met at the gate by a deputation of towering Atans in formal attire, which in their culture meant the donning of unadorned, ankle-length cloaks of dark wool. In the midst of those giants stood a short, golden-robed Tamul. The Tamul had silver-streaked hair and an urbane expression.

‘What are we supposed to do?’ Kalten whispered to Oscagne.

‘Act formal,’ Oscagne advised. ‘Atans adore formality. Ah, Norkan,’ he said to the Tamul in the golden robe, ‘so good to see you again. Fontan sends his best.’

‘How is the old rascal?’ Oscagne’s colleague replied.

‘Wrinkled, but he still hasn’t lost his edge.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Why are we speaking in Elenic?’

‘So that you can brief us all on local circumstances. How are things here?’

‘Tense. Our children are a bit discontent. There’s turmoil afoot. We send them to stamp it out, but it refuses to stay stamped. They resent that. You know how they are.’

‘Oh my, yes. Has the emperor’s sister forgiven you yet?’

Norkan sighed. ‘Afraid not, old boy. I’m quite resigned to spending the rest of my career here.’

‘You know how the people at court like to carry tales. Whatever possessed you to make that remark? I’ll grant you that her Highness’ feet are a bit oversized, but “big-footed cow” was sort of indiscreet, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I was drunk and a little out of sorts. Better to be here in Atan than in Matherion trying to evade her attentions. I have no desire to become a member of the imperial family if it means that I’d have to trudge along behind her as she clumps about the palace.’

‘Ah, well. What’s on the agenda here?’

‘Formality. Official greetings. Speeches. Ceremonies. The usual nonsense.’

‘Good. Our friends from the west are a bit unbridled at times. They’re good at formality, though. It’s when things become informal that they get into trouble. May I present the Queen of Elenia?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Oscagne said, ‘this is my old friend, Norkan. He’s the imperial representative here in Atan, an able man who’s fallen on hard times.’

Norkan bowed. ‘Your Majesty,’ he greeted Ehlana.

‘Your Excellency,’ she responded. Then she smiled. ‘Are her Highness’ feet really that big?’ she asked him slyly.

‘She skis with only the equipment God gave her, your Majesty. I could bear that, I suppose, but she’s given to temper tantrums when she doesn’t get her own way, and that sort of grates on my nerves.’ He glanced at the huge, dark-cloaked Atans surrounding the carriage. ‘Might I suggest that we proceed to what my children here refer to as the palace? The king and queen await us there. Is your Majesty comfortable speaking in public? A few remarks might be in order.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t speak Tamul, your Excellency.’

‘Perfectly all right, your Majesty. I’ll translate for you. You can say anything that pops into your head. I’ll tidy it up for you as we go along.’

‘How very kind of you.’ There was only the faintest edge to her voice.

‘I live but to serve, your Majesty.’

‘Remarkable, Norkan,’ Oscagne murmured. ‘How do you manage to put both feet in your mouth at the same time?’

‘It’s a gift,’ Norkan shrugged.

King Androl of Atan was seven feet tall, and his wife, Queen Betuana was only slightly shorter. They were very imposing. They wore golden helmets instead of crowns, and their deep blue silk robes were open at the front, revealing the fact that they were both heavily armed. They met the Queen of Elenia and her entourage in the square outside the royal palace of Atan, which was in actuality nothing more than their private dwelling. Atan ceremonies, it appeared, were conducted out of doors.

With the queen’s carriage in the lead and her armed escort formed up behind, the visitors rode at a slow and stately pace into the square. There were no cheers, no fanfares, none of the artificial enthusiasm normally contrived for state visitors. Atans showed respect by silence and immobility. Stragen skilfully wheeled the carriage to a spot in front of the slightly raised stone platform before the royal dwelling, and Sparhawk dismounted to offer his queen a steel-encased forearm. Ehlana’s face was radiantly regal, and her pleasure was clearly unfeigned. Though she occasionally spoke slightingly of ceremonial functions, pretending to view them as tedious, she truly loved ceremony. She took a deep satisfaction in formality.

Ambassador Oscagne approached the royal family of Atan, bowed and spoke at some length in the flowing, musical language of all Tamuls. Mirtai stood behind Ehlana, murmuring a running translation of his Excellency’s words. Ehlana’s eyes were very bright, and there were two spots of heightened colour on her alabaster cheeks, signs that said louder than words that she was composing a speech.

King Androl then spoke a rather brief greeting, and Queen Betuana added her somewhat lengthier agreement. Sparhawk could not hear Mirtai’s translation, so for all he knew the Atan king and queen were discussing weather-conditions on the moon.

Then Ehlana stepped forward, paused for dramatic effect, and began to speak in a clear voice that could be heard throughout the square. Ambassador Norkan stood at the side of the stone platform and translated her words.