“Quit fidgeting, Jinto,” chided Lafiel, sipping on something that smelled fruity.
“I’ll do what I can, but you might be asking too much.” Jinto was a nervous wreck. “What should I do? Is there special etiquette?”
“It’s not important — just behave courteously and use your common sense.”
“We all know how that’ll turn out!”
“Just follow my lead. Walk up to the foot of the Skemsorl and give a bold salute. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Nothing to it, really.”
“You say that now…”
One of the Beikeburia came in. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Jinto stood and walked toward the man.
“Wrong way.” Lafiel laughed and pointed to a huge door. “It’s over here.”
“Great, I’m off to a good start.”
“Just stand next to me, and try to match my walking speed. Stand up a little straighter. You’re a hero.”
The big door opened.
Gentle morning light filled the Audience Hall. A number of beams crisscrossed the ceiling, supporting a dispersion screen (Shyunobezia). Crest banners of the Voda who were part of the Frybar hung proudly from the beams. Jinto couldn’t help but notice the brand-new Gal Guraw of Dreujhe Haidar in the very front.
Surrounded on both sides by Sash Idar, Jinto and Lafiel walked along the black marble floor toward the foot of the Imperial throne.
Military musicians (Sash Arovot) played the Imperial national anthem (Rue Ol). They didn’t sing the lyrics, but Jinto knew them anyway — stereotypical Abh verse, unapologetically brash and adventurous.
To avoid gaffes like the one he made upon meeting Lafiel, Jinto spent a large percentage of the journey in the coordination ship memorizing the faces of distinguished people he might encounter. Thanks to that effort, he recognized three of the people in front of him.
Lafiel’s grandmother Erumita Spunej Ramaj was in the back, rising from her jade throne. To the Empress’ left (on a platform one step lower than the one holding the Skemsorl, naturally) stood Lafiel’s father, His Highness Debeus, King of Kryv (Larth Kryb Feia Debeuser). The boy next to Lafiel’s father was undoubtedly her little brother, His Highness Buhiir, Viscount of Wemdaisu (Borl Wemdaisal Feia Duhir).
The sight of Lafiel’s family threw Jinto for a loop; they all looked young enough to be her siblings. Actually, Larth Kryb looked older than the Empress to Jinto. Strange. Jinto just had no practical way to guess an Abh’s age. He wondered whether they could tell by looking.
There was a white carpet at the foot of the throne. Lafiel knelt on it.
Jinto nervously copied her movements.
“Please, Jarluk Dreu,” said a nearby voice, “there’s no need for you to kneel.”
He looked up and was surprised to see the Ramaj had come down from the Skemsorl and stood directly before him.
“Please. Stand up,” she urged.
Jinto nodded obediently and stood.
“Please accept the gratitude of the Abliars, Jarluk. The young one here,” the Empress indicated Lafiel, “is endowed with enormous potential. If not for you, we probably would not have seen her alive.”
“No.” Jinto blushed, “I really didn’t do anything. She’s the one who saved me.”
“Not true, Jarluk.” Ramaj took Jinto’s hand. “If you hadn’t taught her the importance of choosing your battles, she would have fought until it brought about her destruction. Historically, our family’s tragic flaw has been the inability to know when to retreat. On top of that, this one’s temper is particularly ferocious. Also, you are an Abh who knew how to survive on a Nahen. Without that rare quality, you might not be standing here right now.”
Jinto was quite embarrassed, but not too much to notice that the Empress really bore a striking resemblance to Lafiel.
“I would also like to thank you personally,” said Dubeus. “For people like us who live on Lakfakalle, a Nahen is a very foreign place. Most of us are born and die without setting foot on a land world. You may find this strange, but a Nahen is even quite intimidating and frightening to the Abh. I cannot express the extent of my gratitude for bringing my daughter back.”
“But,” asserted Jinto, “there are some good people on Nahen, too, and without their help, the enemy surely would have captured us.”
Dubeus smiled. “We don’t mean to say that people on Nahen are all evil, just that the lives of landers and those of the Abh are extremely different. Clasbul’s full of people who hate us, and without your help, my daughter would not be here today.”
“Yes,” Ramaj agreed. “Based on the Lartnei’s written report, I know about the people who ultimately helped you escape. And they have my eternal thanks as well. But do not diminish your own contribution.”
“Most of the time, Lafiel had to save me — especially in Kesath.”
“That was a duty given to her by Bomowas Lexshu,” At the mention of the commander, a grief washed over Dubeus’ face. “It was an order for her to help you through Dath, but nobody ordered you to help her on the Nahen.”
“You’ve done well, Jarluk,” said Ramaj.
“Yeah, thanks for saving my sister,” chirped young Duhiir sincerely.
Duhiir’s sincere and meek gratitude pleased Jinto very much. The Empress’ and King’s thanks were too dignified and sort of embarrassing. Jinto couldn’t reconcile the words they spoke with the fact that they were about him. It was just too weird.
“I’m honored, Feia.” Jinto bowed to the youngster. “And Erumita and Feia Lalt-I’m greatly honored by your too-kind words.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Lafiel advised him.
“He’s doing just fine,” said the Empress.
“Look how pale he is! He looks like he’s being tortured.”
“I didn’t realize you and Jarluk Dreu Haidar were such good friends, Fal Fryum,” mused Dubeus.
“We spent a lot of time together, and we became friends, Father,” replied Lafiel.
“I see.” Dubeus continued to grin deviously. “Lafiel, it’s been so long — won’t you take a walk with your dear father?”
“Please do, Lafiel,” said Ramaj. “I have some unpleasant business to take care of. Jarluk Dreu, come with me. I have to give you some unfortunate news.”
Somehow, Jinto got even paler.