Fia always felt a reverent hush in the workrooms of Harrin & Lark. The high windows captured light from their street level placement and streams of it streaked across the red carpet, forming strange patterns with the shadows of the window frames. Behind the workspace were the storerooms, locked and bolted, where the precious supplies of the jeweler’s trade were kept safe. Raylor had showed them to the Brithins once, and Fia’s eyes could still see the glint of gems and gleam of gold and silver.

The fair-haired head of that worthy craftsman was bent intently over his work at his jeweler’s table as she approached softly, but he looked up as he heard her come near.

“Fia!” His eye sparkled in surprise. “Who let you out of the woods?”

“Father received a Special Invitation.” She knew he would not take offense at just a little smugness in her voice. Raylor was nearly as much one of the family as she was.

His eyebrows raised in approval. “Well! He deserves every recognition he gets. Your father is an uncommon man. You know, sometimes, Fia, I don’t know if you appreciate him.”

“Raylor!” she gasped, and then rushed at him when he smirked. “You are impossible! How can you tease like that? You know I know he’s wonderful!” Her fingers gripped into his shoulder and she was gratified to feel him flinch a little. All those morning milking chores had some reward. She let him go. It wasn’t polite to persecute one’s elders.

He sobered. “I know, we all do.” He winked. “But sometimes we don’t really, really see what we have without losing it a little.”

“I don’t want to lose him.” She stared at him levelly. “What are you saying?”

He shook his head. “I was just thinking about Othira, I guess. Forget it.” He turned back to his work. “How are you coming on that model?”

“I’ve finished it.” She smiled; the rush had been worth it. “When I found out we were coming I hurried and got it done.”

“Good for you!” he congratulated, but his attention had returned to his work.

She slipped up to his elbow to get a good look at the piece he was working on. Seeing this he paused and held it up for her inspection. It was a delicately crafted silver necklace, and her eye caught the few broken links which he had been fixing.

“Olayin work.” His words held a reverence that was easy to understand. The Olayins had been the premiere jewelers in the known kingdoms since… well, no one could ever remember a time when they weren’t.

Fia’s eyes were fixated by the necklace. Amazingly delicate and yet so structurally strong, it left the hopeful young jeweler amazed at its accomplishment.  

“How do the Olayins make their pieces so wonderful, Raylor?” she asked in the hushed tone the necklace deserved.

“Well…” He set the piece down and looked straight at her. “Some say they were taught by the elves, and know their secrets.”

“But the elves have been gone for nearly forever.”

“Ah, not that long! The Olayins have been famous for so long that they reach back to the time before the elves left our world.” He shrugged and dropped the subject. “At least that’s what people say. All I know is I’d have given a good deal to apprentice there.” He shifted the lay of the necklace. “But in all their history they rarely take apprentices. I’ve also heard that they make fewer and fewer pieces these years… Perhaps, like the elves, they’re fading too?” He looked up and then suddenly winked. Then he lifted the necklace aloft again for the light to play on.

“It belongs to the Princess Illyria.” His eyes roamed every detail. “A royal match for a royal princess. Isn’t it perfect?”

She nodded. It was. To any jeweler the finely made details shouted out the praises of its creator, and the princess was said to be a beauty in her own right.

“I’m just replacing these links…” he muttered as he set it back down on the table and again picked up his jeweler’s pliers. “A page will come round for it in a few hours and I’d better have it ready.”

Fia was more than content to stand and admire the workmanship for as long as it took him to fix the broken links. Then she reluctantly followed him back upstairs where he left the necklace with Mr. Harrin, and then they joined the two ladies in the kitchen above.

“Merithin!” Raylor said as he breezed through the door. “We’re so glad to see you.” He kissed Arya first, then pressed a filial kiss to his mother-in-law’s cheek and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze.  He was very fond of Merithin, especially for having done such a good job raising his beloved wife.

After a round of teasing and the exchange of family news, he motioned for Fia to get out the modeled tracery and she showed it to him.

“She’s been working on that like a trail hound on a scent,” her mother told Arya. “It could be her gift.” And then she smiled and shook her head at the oddest things her children took to.

Fia watched Raylor with the eyes of a hawk as he examined her work.

“This is very well done,” her brother-in-law said at last as he turned the bracelet in his hands, his deft eyes catching every detail. “For your first full piece, it is very well done indeed. You have a talent for it.”

She let out the breath she had been holding.

“Thank you!” she said. Then hurriedly, “But you must have noticed, here where the vine curls, it seems to be too square. I’ve reworked it a dozen times, but it’s as if my hand always seems to slip.”

He smiled and shook his head. “You’re just beginning. It takes a little time and practice. Don’t expect things too fast.” He gave it a last look then handed it back.

“I would like to show it to my father, and see what he says. If you want an apprenticeship… we may be able to get you one here, when the time comes. You’ll need a little more exposure before you’ll want to be deciding for certain, and you’ve got the time.  You’ll be here in the city for a while: next time you stop by I will have another project for you to try your hand at, and I’ll give you the pointers for it.”

“Thanks, Raylor.” Fia set the wax bracelet on the counter between them. She knew that the offer of apprenticeship wasn’t made just because they were related, but because he truly thought she was good enough. And that meant a lot coming from him. She smiled. “Thank you very much, I appreciate it.”

By the time everyone had finished talking it was late, and mother and daughter needed to hurry to reach the palace in time to be ready for the evening. Raylor had arranged for a hired carriage to come around for them and everyone called farewells even as it was driving away with the two of them in it.

The carriage swiftly rattled through the extensive main thoroughfares, and then they were out through the gate on the other side of the city. The unfolding hills wore a rich autumn green in the westering sunlight, laid out like velvet beneath their view, broken by pools of treetops scattered in amongst the ridges. Fia leaned on the carriage window to get the most out of the scene as they trundled swiftly downhill away from the city gate, the vantage of height dwindling as they went.

The horses dashed past orchards and groves to a valley bottom, then up and over the ridge-crest, turning and winding as the road ran along the slope. Once more in a basin they whooshed across a white stone bridge that arched over a lazy little river, and then they broke out from under the shade of the river trees and topped a slight rise, and there, only slightly above them, was King’s Hall, with high walls of white stone running off in both directions from the main road entrance.

Beyond the walls lay the palace, its large and welcoming proportions paying tribute to a culture that held hospitality so highly. Trees stood about like friendly sentinels, and orchards spread out on different sides, as well as single fruit trees that were dotted throughout the maze of walled gardens.

The gardens had been designed with beauty in mind, but function at their heart. Here, near to the king’s residence, were grown nearly all of the supplies for the palace’s families and the numerous guests that were always coming and going. Woven in and around the “sitting gardens” filled with flowers and berry bush hedges, were the straw-covered patches for growing potatoes, the raised beds of radishes, carrots, the creeping vines of tomatoes and squashes, all carefully fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. And the palace gardeners were the puzzlers.

The sturdy wooden palace gates stood open for the day at the entrance, and there was only a brief pause while the guards at the gate noted their right to pass through and swung wide the filigreed ironwork of the inner gates, and then the carriage rolled through onto the palace grounds.

A well-kept park spread for a little ways before they reached the gardens. Fia’s sharp eyes noticed little digs in the grass from the galloping feet of horses, and knew this was often a scene of interest as palace inhabitants kept up their horsemanship skills. The beautiful scene enchanted her despite her nervousness; she knew that she would love to go for a stately gallop beneath those splendid trees, and wondered if it might just happen. Surely there were calm, dependable horses in the stables for guests?

The carriage rolled onward into the part of the spacious drive that ran through the gardens, the high walls only hinting at what lay within them with the occasional trailing vine or nodding boughs of a tree spilling beyond their confines. Then the carriage took a turn round to the guest quarters, and when they had disembarked it went hurrying away again towards Tolsern.

Merithin quickly asked directions to their quarters, and they arrived to see that everyone was nearly ready for dinner and their first court appearance. Everyone, that was, but themselves.

“What keep you so long?” Ialla chided. “I have kept a bath drawn for you, but it’s nearly cold by now.”

“Never mind the temperature, we’ll use it anyway,” said Mother.

“Mother was talking,” Fia answered her sister’s first question.

“And which will you want to wear?” Estha held up two gowns. “The lavender, or the ivory with gold trim?”

“Ivory,” Mother replied, letting her hair fall around her shoulders as she deftly plucked the hairpins out. “It’s the first night, and we want to make the right impression.”

“Right.” Estha laid the ivory one on a chair and disappeared with the other.

“Fia, quick, into the tub! We won’t have time to get your hair fixed if you don’t hurry.”

With the prospect of the evening before them they completed their bathing in short order, and with the other girls to help their hair was soon arranged to even the most exacting standards.

“Fia, what are you wearing?” Ialla questioned as she patted her mother’s last silvering strands into place.

“I thought I’d wear the yellow one.”

Estha shook her head.

“I think you’d do better to wear the plum color. Mother?” She held them up side by side.

“Yes, the plum for certain.” Merithin nodded. “It brings out your complexion, Fia, and highlights your hair, and the wool satin shows very well in lamplight. Save the yellow for another day, when you’ll be outdoors in the sunlight. All right then, is everyone ready?”

Fia slipped into the purple gown as her mother, Ialla, and Estha made a final head count and called in from the gardens those younger than Fia who had been readied earlier and sent out to amuse themselves.

Jithra slipped in through the elegant door and whispered in Fia’s ear, “I’ve never seen such gardens! And when we get back there’s something I’ll have to show you.” She winked and grinned, and then dashed away to pass inspection, and then out into the hall with the others who were officially declared presentable.

The Provost would be joining them in the royal dining hall, but his young sons put in an appearance a few minutes before Fia was completely ready. They stood in the hall with those who were waiting, and talked in low voices about humorous things they had heard or thought of, the whole group erupting into laughter from time to time. Fia didn’t like missing out on the fun, but she knew it was a direct result of stopping at Raylor and Arya’s, which she would not have willingly given up for anything.

When she finally twirled out into the hallway her mother was ready too, and so they all set off, and there was no more time for fooling.

Merithin seemed to know exactly where they were going and as they went along more and more people joined them in the halls, some of whom greeted her warmly, and a few among them Fia actually recognized. There were distant family and second cousins sprinkled randomly about, and a few relatives of Mother’s childhood friends, and by the time they ushered themselves into the royal dining hall, it was not too difficult to understand why there seemed to be a continuous hum hovering in the air from one end of it to the other. The huge room was very nearly filled with people.

Fia knew that the right head tilt and calm eye movements were mostly what made the difference between observing and staring, and she was glad their mother had taught them that. There was a lot to observe here.

A trio of diplomats strode past, and a way opened before them in the crowd. There was no noticeable change in anyone’s face or posture, but Fia felt the air stiffen as the three walked on.

“Who are they?” Merithin asked in a low voice to the cousin who had just greeted her.

“False representatives from Othira,” the lady replied. Her tone carried no farther than an arm’s length, but the icy chill in it frosted Fia’s ears.

“False?” Merithin queried. “Othira is in near ruin, of course, but surely their ambassadors ought still to be respected. They still have the king’s backing, do they not?”

“If they were from King Gregor, of course they would be respected.” The cousin flicked an acidic glance at the crowd closing behind the envoys. “But these are not from the king. The upstart Barons have the audacity to send envoys and request recognition as a kingdom from King Hanor. I have never been so insulted in my life, and I’d like to personally strangle every one of them.” She huffed and worked her mouth in indignation. “But the Chancellor says there is a purpose to letting those murderers stay at court for a few days. I can hardly see what it might be, but we do all trust that our king and chancellor are a wise pair of heads to handle this insufferable affront…”

Fia glanced at the closing crowd and saw the stiffness in the movements. It seemed everyone here felt the same way, and there was little chance that the Barons’ diplomats had failed to be aware of it.

At last everyone began to find their places at a table, and a page summoned the Brithins towards the head of the hall. As they arrived the king himself appeared through one of the large archways with the Provost at his side.

Fia had never seen their monarch before, although they had all seen portraits here and there. But he was different from the paintings, a little older of course, but with a sort of air that made you feel like he was your most trusted friend. There was also an almost tangible feel of mystery about him, and thoughtful wisdom, and kingliness, which made you instinctively want to drop to one knee.

Which they all did as one (though the girls curtsied) as he came through the archway and stopped before them.  

“And this is your family, Provost?” King Hanor asked Torin, with a kind twinkle in his eye as he looked them over. He waved his hand easily, telling them to rise and making them feel important at the same time.

“It is, Sire.” Torin’s voice was tinged with pride, and at that they each would have stood a little straighter, if that had been possible.

“Well then! Merithin, it’s good to see you again.” The king reached out a hand and she took it. “It’s been some time you’ve been hidden away in the foothill country, but I see you’ve been handling a large job, raising up the next Lorsians. And performing admirably it seems… as everyone who ever knew you would only expect.”

“Thank you, sire.” Merithin blushed. Fia could not remember ever seeing that happen before.

It had been a long time indeed since Merithin had lived at court and that the king should greet her by name was a two-fold sign. It showed that he was an excellent king who thought of everything when dealing with his subjects; and, that their mother had been held in good esteem while she was here.

Then King Hanor went on down the line as their father introduced each and every one of his children, and for each the king had a kind remark and a quick eye that left them with the impression that he would remember their face anywhere. They had entered the room relatively unknown, but they had the feeling that now they would never be anonymous again. Fia wasn’t sure if that felt absolutely safe.

After the presentations the king turned to introduce them to the young lady that had walked a few steps behind him. Upright and graceful as a pine, she had a lovely face, her pale complexion contrasting well with her deep brown eyes and dark lashes. Fia recognized the stunning necklace that glittered at the princess’s throat as the one from the workroom of Harrin & Lark.

  “And here is my child,” he said, laying a hand on the lady’s shoulder. “My daughter, Illyria.”

“Princess,” Mother murmured and curtsied deeply, all of her children following her example as if they were shadows.

“My lady.” The princess returned the curtsy, and then with a glance included them all in her acknowledgement. Her look was benign and gracious, cool and informed, and Fia wondered what transformation overtook her if and when she let herself laugh.

Just then a small gong rang from somewhere in the hall’s center, signaling the readiness of the feast, and even kings were ill-advised to delay if they wanted to keep the royal cooks at their best. The king motioned an instruction to the page as to where the Brithins were to be seated, and they followed the boy to a place at the tables already laden with the nightly feast. He then disappeared and they slid into their chairs, the fresh smells of food tantalizing their noses… not to mention their stomachs.

After a suitable settling-in moment, they all began to dine as self-consciously as it was possible with such delicious dishes before them.

The evening was abuzz with merry chatter and serious conversations. Merithin chatted happily with the stranger nearest her, gleaning bits of useful information that only she could have told the value of, while the rest of her family carefully ate and delicately listened. Amongst the Brithins there was a general silence as far as topics were concerned, they were mainly occupied with the engrossing endeavor to hear everything that was being said by their neighbors. And, among the younger girls at least, paying circumspect attention to the varying attire without showing impropriety.

“Did you notice the jeweled butterfly?” Eilma whispered.

“Shh!” Fia hissed, mortally afraid the lady had heard. It was very bad manners to talk about other people while they were sitting at the same dinner table with you. Her sister needed to save up her exclamations and tell them in her own quarters. The lady had not blinked an eye, though, so she probably had been paying attention to something else.

“It’s so beautiful.” Eilma sighed.

Before Fia could kick her ankle the lady turned and looked at them.

“Thank you, dear.” She smiled and dipped her head ever so slightly, with a royal grace. Then she returned to her conversation, and Fia turned a bright red.

The very first night and here they were already set to embarrass Mother. She wanted to go immediately to bed, and to take Eilma with her.

But breaking from the royal table would have been an even more embarrassing maneuver. So they stayed, and Fia kept a toe ready for Eilma’s ankle.

After the meal was finished there would be a few hours of dancing, for any who cared, or socializing, for those who liked that better. But they retired early, on their mother’s noticing the stifled yawns the younger ones could not contain. Truth to tell, they all were tired from the journey, so with many nights of merriment ahead to look forward to they quickly adjourned to their quarters to sleep.

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