“They’ve never had a chance to see a king,” Dorrin said. “They’re so excited—I hope they remember to toss the flowers softly and not jump up and down and squeal. They did practice.”

He chuckled. “They won’t spook my mount, not after the days on the road. My father used to tell me nothing settled a horse like days of riding. He was right; we’ve had no jigging about since the third day.”

They came up to the waiting children and servants; his trumpeters blew another fanfare. Beclan waited to one side of the entrance. At Dorrin’s hand signal, he moved another step to the side. Now the king rode forward; the children tossed their flowers to form a gold and white carpet on the grass—only a few forgot and squealed—and the royal party rode up to the foot of the steps. Dorrin’s grooms waited to hold the horses.

Up the steps; the king gave Beclan a quick nod, then turned to face the little crowd below the steps. Dorrin had stopped a step below him with her squires a step below that.

“It has been many generations since a Verrakai duke welcomed a king of Tsaia here,” he began. “And I for one am glad it is this duke, Dorrin Verrakai, who has welcomed me. May Gird’s grace and Falk’s honor rest here, and as long as my standard is planted here, any who wish the king’s justice may apply.” He looked down at Dorrin. “My lord Duke, present your kirgan and the others.”

Beclan looked startled; Dorrin signaled him to take a step forward. He went to one knee. “Sir king,” she said. “I present my kirgan, Beclan Verrakai.”

“Kirgan Verrakai,” the king said, and nodded; Beclan stood again and bowed. “I understand your duke has an urgent errand that only you can accomplish. I give you leave, therefore, to go upon your Duke’s command.”

“Sir king,” Beclan said, bowing again. He looked at Dorrin.

“Beclan, you have my seal of authority in this matter; you may go now,” Dorrin said.

Beclan bowed to her, again to the king, then entered the house. Dorrin knew horse and escort awaited him outside the stableyard walls in back. He would not return until Dorrin sent word that the king had gone.

The king’s party was even smaller than she had expected, and only he and Duke Marrakai, the High Marshal, and the peers would stay in the house itself. Everyone else, he said, would camp in the meadow.

“Sir king, would you prefer to refresh yourself before a meal or eat now?”

“A bath would be a delight,” the king said. “Your way shelter is adequate, but I have ridden several days, and it’s warmer than I expected.”