he sampled the tea and something from each bowl as well as a bite of each cake. That task done, he spoke.
“An unfortunate necessity, for which I apologize.”
“What is going on?” Fintan asked. “Why was I whisked away to a sty like the Randy Goat with no explanation?”
Föstyr sighed and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin before answering. He deliberately placed his palms on the table and looked directly at the bard. “For your own safety. We received threats against your life and wished you to see the sunrise, so you were discreetly relocated and an impostor spent the night in your room.”
“And what happened to the impostor?”
“He lives, but only because he was expecting the visitor who tried to slit his throat as he slept.”
“No!” I exclaimed, but the other two men ignored me.
“Start at the beginning,” Fintan said, crossing his arms and pointedly not enjoying the repast laid out in front of him.
Föstyr looked as if he’d been asked to eat something repellent, but after a short pause he began. “Very well. About an hour after your tale yesterday we received an urgent visit from the Nentian ambassador, who said that the few Nentian nationals we have living in our fine city did not take kindly to your portrayal of either Melishev Lohmet or Abhinava Khose.”
“I assure you that my portrayal of Viceroy Lohmet was as kind and generous as I could make it.”
“I have no doubt. But the idea that one of their leaders might be a heartless shitsnake disturbed some of them greatly, and they decided they would rather not hear you speak of it anymore.”
“That comparison,” Fintan pointed out, “is somewhat disrespectful to shitsnakes. But the best way these citizens thought they could ensure that I never spoke of it again was to kill me?”
“You have a quick mind. They fear you will tarnish their good name in the city. The ambassador warned us that your life might be in danger, and they were very anxious to add that the Nentian government was not to be held responsible.”
“I fail to see what good name these Nentians might have if they’re the sort to hire assassins. You have no other details?”
“There was the suggestion that your portrayal of the viceroy either is an outright fabrication or that you somehow gained unauthorized access to his private documents, since there is no way he would share such sentiments with you freely.”
“It is true that he never asked me to read his diary, and it was in fact stolen from him, but not by me, and I only read it because I was bored. Anything else?”
“Nothing except complaints about the obvious anti-Nentian slant of your tale.”
“I don’t understand. How was the portrayal of Abhinava anything but positive? He’s thoughtful, properly respectful of his family—”
“The ambassador claimed that some small-minded Nentian citizens were not so accepting as the young man’s parents were about his sexuality.”
Fintan pressed his palms into his eyes and muttered, “Goddess give me patience!”
“They don’t serve patience here, but this tea really is quite lovely,” Föstyr said, picking up his cup and slurping from it. “You should try some before it gets too cold.”
The bard dropped his hands. “Well, if they objected to what little they’ve heard so far about the viceroy, they’re going to soil themselves over what’s to come.”
“I imagine they will,” Föstyr said, nodding agreeably. “So we must move you around, you see.”
“I’m not changing my tale to please them. That would betray my duty to the poet goddess.”
“You will note, Master Bard, that I did not even suggest it.”
“I’m not here to promote the agendas of any government—even mine. I’m here to tell this story, and it’s going to be uncomfortable for everyone because war is bloody uncomfortable.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? What happens to me when I present some of Brynlön’s closer allies in a less than favorable light? You have little to do with the Nentians, but what if I offend the Black Jaguar Clan in Forn or point out some embarrassing facts about Kauria? That might threaten your little tea party here. You’re already dependent on imports for food and other necessities with most of your economy wiped out. They could put pressure on you to silence me.”
“My government won’t hurt you.”
“But it might cease to protect me from others; is that it?”
Föstyr deliberately dabbed at the corners of his mouth before replying, perhaps to give himself time to think. “We are not so unworthy as you suggest.