She gave him her hand; he bowed over it, and she was pleased to note that his hand was warm and dry, not cold or clammy. She took her place on the small, velvet-covered throne on the sketchy dais, and motioned to him to sit. This was a room meant to welcome rather than awe; the warm ocher of the leather-covered paneling and the aspect of it, situated so that it looked out into a sheltered courtyard, made it surprisingly comfortable for a formal room. The furnishings were all upholstered in leather that matched the paneling, and the floor carpeted; there was a fine fire in the fireplace, and servants with mulled, spiced wine to serve. Everything that could have been done to relax the Ambassador and his entourage had been—more of Talamir’s work, no doubt.

“Ambassador Werenton, it is good to see you again,” she said warmly. “And I am glad that you were able to reach our Court before this snow closed us in.”

“As am I, Majesty,” he replied. “And my King wishes me, first, to tender his sympathies for your loss, and second, offer his apologies that he was not able to send me sooner.”

She smiled at him, and hoped that her weariness with all of the official expressions of condolence did not show. She knew very well that the King of Hardorn could have cared less about who was on the throne of Valdemar. He knew that Valdemar would always favor allies and peace over conquest. In fact, so long as that attitude prevailed, the King of Hardorn would not have cared if the Council had elected a horse to wear the crown. “Please, Werenton—the message of condolence arrived with the usual promptiness of our friends and allies, and I can certainly understand how your King would be otherwise too occupied with his own defensive preparations against Karse to think about sending you to our Court.”

“If Valdemar had fallen—or even been pushed back—” Werenton said apologetically, and shrugged. “We share a border with Karse, as you know. The King was prepared, at need, to unite our force with yours if it had come to that. As it was, the defeated Tedrels spread into our land, and we were forced to deal with them as one would any other plague.”

The King would not have bestirred himself unless his Border Lords forced him to, she translated to herself. In fact, it probably wouldn’t have been the King of Hardorn who united his forces with us at all; it would have been the local Hardornen border-levies.

“And your King was right to concern himself first with them, and concern himself with other things second,” Selenay agreed. “I am glad it never came to the point of asking our allies for help.”