A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (read this if txt) 📕

“You sound more like a churchman than an advisor,” the guard said.

“We are after the same things, and I’m sure you are too. We won’t be long,” Escarik said.

Trevor stood, trying not to smile. Brother Coosin’s persuasion abilities were something to behold. He turned around to see a cart led by a real tradesman approach the gate. Trevor tugged Coosin’s sleeve and nodded to the approaching horse and wagon.

“You have other work to do. Let us through, and we will let you be about your business.”

Coosin took a step past the guard, who looked at the tradesman and then looked at them. He gave Trevor a quick glance, and they both walked through the gate before the guard said another word. They turned to the side to disappear from the guard’s view and walked along the wall toward the front of the castle grounds.

“I thought we wouldn’t have to work for our entrance,” Trevor said, “but that was quite a performance.”

“Sometimes seers must do what they can to get the proper point across. I believe the common term is ‘wheedle.’”

Trevor laughed. “It is. Are you going to come with me to visit the queen?”

Coosin grinned. “Of course. Perhaps I’ll get another chance to wheedle, but I’d be happy to merely greet Queen Marta and beat an orderly retreat.”

“Our goals aren’t quite the same, but they are aligned until we face the queen,” Trevor said. They continued to walk on the castle grounds as if they owned the place and then stepped inside the first entrance they encountered.

They stepped down half a flight of steps into the servants’ space. Trevor stopped when a door opened. Coosin turned away from the door and engaged Trevor in a meaningless conversation while Trevor watched a costumed guard adjust the buckle of his sword belt.

“Let’s follow him,” Trevor said.

Following the guard became easier once they let the man climb steps to the main level first. They followed him into a wide corridor. One side was lit by windows, and tall doors lined the other side. They stopped at a more ornate entrance and let the guard walk on toward his post.

Coosin led Trevor to a podium where a man with a pleated round collar examined a paper sheet with a few names.

“We would like an audience,” Coosin said.

“You are?”

“I am the aide to the duke of Listenwell.”

The man’s nose lifted. “There is no Listenwell in Sirland. Sit while I confer with your betters.” The aide disappeared into the courtroom and returned to consult with an older courtier who returned through the doors.

The aide beckoned them back with the crook of his finger. “Where is Listenwell?” the man asked.

“It is one of the largest duchies in Brachia. Duke Trevor is on a trade tour. The duchy produces the finest ale in the world.”

“It does?” the man’s eyebrows rose.

“It rivals the brew from Zinkel’s brewery in Jilgrath,” Trevor said.

“I have heard of Zinkel’s ale, but it doesn’t get this far south,” the man said.

Trevor nodded. “I have people working on that. I have other interesting products to trade. I can also arrange an exclusive tour of Brachian singers. The queen might find such a tour lucrative. I am happy to talk to functionaries, but I must get the sponsorship of the queen first.” Trevor smiled. “You understand, of course.”

“I do. What was your name?”

“Duke Trevor of Listenwell,” Trevor said.

The man wrote down Trevor’s name, but then he looked up. “How did you get past the main gate?”

“Oh, that,” Trevor said with a bit of light laughter. “We are men with many talents. Persuasion being one of them.”

“Behave, and you won’t lose your heads. I expect the current petitioner to finish early. You can go in next.”

They walked to a space by the windows. “You can wheedle a bit yourself,” Coosin said.

“I just followed your example. I’m used to more direct methods, but I see the benefit of a little sweet-talking. Brother Yvan does a little wheedling. I learned from him too,” Trevor said. He thought that Brother Yvan’s wheedling involved less prevarication than the method Coosin followed, but Trevor saw the advantages of the technique.

Trevor’s name was called, and Coosin walked slightly behind as they entered the queen’s court. There were courtiers scattered about, including the man who had conferred with the aide, and the throne was flanked by two tables staffed by scribes.

“Duke Trevor of Listenwell,” the man with the pleated collar called.

“You may approach the queen,” a uniformed man said. He carried a halberd with a very ceremonial-looking blade.

“Listenwell?” Queen Marta said. “I haven’t heard of that domain in any of the countries close to Sirland.

Trevor bowed to the queen. “It is in Brachia. I recently acquired the domain and am on tour to promote commerce with other lands. A larger market will mean larger income.”

Queen Marta laughed. “I understand that well enough. What do you have that might interest me?”

“We make fine ale. We also have mines, including a large deposit of copper and other minerals. I have been incidentally involved with Brachian singers and could be talked into sending a troupe to Sirland. If we tour under your royal name, you will share handsomely in the sale of tickets.”

“You are bribing me?”

Trevor shook his head. “I am here for commerce. You asked what might interest you.”

The queen sat back and rubbed her chin with the back of her hand. “I did, didn’t I?”

A woman walked up beside the queen.

“A word with my man,” Trevor said.

The queen waved her hand as permission.

“Do you see the woman standing to the queen’s right?”

Coosin looked at the throne and then back at Trevor. “No one but the queen is up there.”

“A female Maskumite magician just walked in. I would have