"By the very nature of themselves, what we do must be carried out secretly. Even when we act openly, it is in secret...."
In the distance a bell tolled the supper hour. In the palace, pageboys wandered the corridors, knocking on apartment doors rousing the occupants. Carter combed out his beard, frowning at the liberal sprinkling of gray hairs in it, donned his cloak and set out for the dining hall. He shivered as a chill wind swept down the drafty corridors, and reminded himself to speak to Kahl again about returning to the capital city. Anything would be better than this.
The dining hall was crowded, as usual, with supplicants who had bribed their way to the royal tables. Most of them had wasted their money. The chamberlain had stuck them away in far corners where they would be able to do nothing but stare at the man they wanted to see. Not that it would have done them any good to speak to the king. Kahl found the petty details of his office tiring. More and more he had been shoving them onto the willing shoulders of Carter.
The chamberlain met him at the door with a copy of the seating arrangements. Carter read down the list, pausing here and there at familiar names—most of them pests who had long ago worn out his patience. He pursed his lips and touched a name with his finger.
"This Ivra. Fisherman, it says. He the one with the daughter Kahl wants?"
"Yes." Like most of the royal retinue, the chamberlain was uncomfortable in Carter's presence. The man had no title, no office. But he was undeniably the most powerful person in the realm after the king himself—some placed his eminence even ahead of the king's. "Shall I place him at the royal table?"
"No. It wouldn't do any good. But tell him to come see me tomorrow—no. Make that three days from now. He can't have his daughter unviolated, but I think we can make him happy to have her at all."
He handed the list back and made his way to the royal table, nodding to acquaintances and enemies. The problem of the fisherman bothered him. Carter was unaware of the fact, but he carried a strong puritanical conscience, the legacy of unknown forebears of years back. He disapproved of Kahl's unrestrained love life and did whatever he could to ease the disruptions it caused in the normal flow of subject-ruler relations.
He stopped at the royal table and clapped a uniformed officer on the shoulder. "Marshal Zants! A pleasure to see you back at court. I read your report. I know His Most Graciousness will be pleased at your eastern successes."