It cost him twenty-five thousand stellors, nearly all the money he had, but he considered the investment a worthy one. He returned to Borlaam the next day. A week had elapsed since his departure.
He presented himself at Moaris Keep, resumed his duties, and once again spent the night with the Lady Moaris. She told him that she had wangled a promise from her husband, and that he was soon to be invited to court. Moaris had not questioned her motives, and she said the invitation was a certainty.
Some days later a message was delivered to him, addressed to Barr Herndon of Zonnigog. It was in the hand of the private secretary to Moaris, and it said that the Lord Moaris had chosen to exert his patronage in favor of Barr Herndon, and that Herndon would be expected to pay his respects to the Seigneur Krellig.
The invitation from the Seigneur came later in the day, borne by a resplendent Toppidan footman, commanding him to present himself at the court reception the following evening, on pain of displeasing the Seigneur. Herndon exulted. He had attained the pinnacle of Borlaamese success, now; he was to be allowed into the presence of the sovereign. This was the culmination of all his planning.
He dressed in the court robes that he had purchased weeks before for just such an event—robes that had cost him more than a thousand stellors, sumptuous with inlaid precious gems and rare metals. He visited a tonsorial parlor and had an artificial beard affixed, in the fashion of many courtiers who disliked growing beards but who desired to wear them at ceremonial state functions. He was bathed and combed, perfumed, and otherwise prepared for his debut at court. He also made certain that the surgical modifications performed on him by the Meldian doctor would be effective when the time came.
The shadows of evening dropped. The moons of Borlaam rose, dancing brightly across the sky. The evening fireworks display cast brilliant light through the winter sky, signifying that this was the birthmonth of Borlaam's Seigneur.
Herndon sent for the carriage he had hired. It arrived, a magnificent four-tube model bright with gilt paint, and he left his shabby dwelling-place. The carriage soared into the night sky; twelve minutes later, it descended in the courtyard of the Grand Palace of Borlaam, that monstrous heap of masonry that glowered down at the capital city from the impregnable vantage-point of the Hill of Fire.
Floodlights illuminated the Grand Palace. Another man might have been stirred by the imposing sight; Herndon merely felt an upwelling of anger. Once his family had lived in a palace too: not of this size, to be sure, for the people of Zonnigog were modest and unpretentious in their desires. But it had been a palace all the same, until the armies of Krellig razed it.
He dismounted from his carriage and presented his invitation to the haughty Seigneurial guards on duty. They admitted him, after checking to see that he carried no concealed weapons, and he was conducted to an antechamber in which he found the Lord Moaris.
"So you're Herndon," Moaris said speculatively. He squinted and tugged at his beard.